Dreamscapes
by camaelczarka
Summary: Thomas comes away from the scuffle at the fair in a coma. Jimmy meets him in fantastical dreams. Post S3 Christmas Special, though AU of it. Chapter 7 is up!
1. Per Ardua Ad Astra

**Written for and inspired by the lovely Are Are in response to her wonderful fic 'Haunts'. Go read it if you haven't already!**

* * *

"Are you going to wake up today?" Jimmy's voice sounded strange to his own ears, as though he were listening to it through a telephone.

Instead of cigarette smoke, Thomas blew away a leaf from a low-hanging branch. "I don't think so." He said, laughing. He looked a few years younger than Jimmy; his black hair loose in the summer breeze. He was wearing a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His face was touched by sun in a way it never was. "I don't know why I'd bother, when I could stay here with you."

Jimmy was troubled by this news, but he wasn't sure why. "You know I can't stay."

Thomas wasn't looking at him, but he had a grin on his face as they walked. "You always say that." He answered, coyly. "But then, here you are."

Jimmy tipped his head back, watching the sky, instead of where he placed his feet. "It's such a nice day. Thomas- Mr. Barrow, I don't remember what it is I meant to tell you."

"Doesn't matter." He said. He was smoking again. He pointed his cigarette towards a small stone building. "This was my house, growing up."

"It _does_ matter- really?" He asked. The roof was covered in fallen leaves, and the stones were wet with rain. The windows had been smashed out.

"Hmm." Thomas made a noise of discontent. He put on a jacket. "I'll never see it again." His voice sounded older. "It's fallen in. It's been twelve years since I've been here."

Jimmy took a step towards it. "No, Jimmy, I don't want to go in. I never saw what happened to it." Thomas turned away, and the leaves they had walked under were now yellow. Heavy, gray rainclouds had moved in. Thomas leaned against the trunk of a tree.

"Won't you come back? I have something I need to tell you, and I can't say it here." Jimmy's voice sounded pleading through the telephone-noise.

Thomas turned away. "Jimmy, I can't. I don't know how. I've never been any good at this sort of thing."

Jimmy sighed, leaning next to him against the tree. The clouds threatened to spill, swirling above them. He sighed again. "Do you remember anything?" He asked.

Thomas let out a short, mirthless laugh. "What d'you want to know? I remember the house." He gestured behind them. "I remember the war. I remember the other house, that big one? And of course I remember you."

Jimmy shoved his hands into his pockets. "I feel badly. I shouldn't have run off."

Thomas shook his head. "Yes, you should have. Otherwise-"

It was a long stretch of time, but the clouds parted. Thomas was still smoking, a cigarette that never seemed to end. He took off his coat, and slung it over his shoulder. "Jimmy." He said, smiling again. "When I first saw you, I didn't know what to think." He started to walk again, a flash of gray at his temples. His face was tired and worn.

Jimmy frowned. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" Thomas asked innocently, raising his eyebrows. "I'm only telling the truth. I _didn't_ know what to think. I thought maybe you had come to find me. I don't know." He sighed, sounding tired.

"It hasn't been so long." Jimmy felt his voice getting far away. He struggled to project it forward. "It's only been a few weeks. You're aren't going miss your whole life."

"I wanted to say that I love you. I wanted to say it to dream-you because it won't make you upset. At least I said it." Thomas nodded, resolutely. "There, I've said it, then."

Jimmy reached for Thomas's arm. "Please stop walking. You keep pacing and pacing and I lose the thread of our conversation." He managed to make Thomas stand still long enough to stamp out his cigarette. His hair was all dark again.

"What were we talking about?" He asked.

"Oh!" Jimmy answered, then slumped. "I don't remember. Are you waking up today?"

Thomas shook his head. "I won't do it, dream-Jimmy. I think I'd miss you. And my head would hurt an awful lot."

Jimmy shook his head, squeezing the back of his own neck. "Ah, not as bad as my neck hurts."

"Worse." Thomas said, smiling smugly. "You've fallen asleep in the chair next to my bed again. I can hear you breathing."

"What?"

* * *

Jimmy startled himself awake, his own voice ringing in his ears and his neck protesting painfully as he sat up straight. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the afternoon light. Thomas was motionless on his bed, his brow furrowed, his arms still by his sides. Jimmy let out a breath, feeling a sense of disappointment settle over him, like he'd almost expected him to be awake this time.

Jimmy picked up the book in his lap, thumbing to the page where he'd left off. "Alright, Mr. Barrow." He said, his voice thick with sleep. It was his half day, and he was in no rush to be anywhere in particular. "Where was I- ah. 'Holmes held up the paper so that the sunlight shone full upon it. It was a page torn from a notebook. The markings were done in pencil, and ran in this way:', well... you can't see it right now, Mr. Barrow, but it's showing these drawings of stick figures dancing." He held up the book for a moment, as though letting Thomas see.

"'Holmes explained it for some time...'" He read on and on, until the sun had set and he had to turn on the lamps.

His eyes were tired from reading when he went down to dinner. He sat silently at the table. He wanted to talk, he really did, but he felt wrong enjoying his time while Thomas was stuck upstairs. He ate, he laughed with everyone else a little bit at something Alfred said.

"Jimmy, are you still worryin' about Mr. Barrow?" Daisy's voice interrupted his thoughts, her hands full of dirty plates. He was uncomfortably aware of many pairs of eyes on him.

"Yes. I can't help but worrying. It's my fault he ended up the way... the way he did." His eyes traced a whorl in the wood planking of the table.

Mrs. Hughes made a tsking noise at him. "Now James, I'm sure Mr. Barrow wouldn't blame you for it. After all, you were running to get help."

He nodded slowly, but he felt no better. That was why he took it upon himself to sit up, talking to Thomas and watching over him. He had sat with him every spare moment since he'd been brought back to Downton from the hospital. He hoped his voice would rouse the other man. He needed to do something to make up for all the damage that had been done.

Jimmy stopped in to check on Thomas before he went to sleep. The staff took turns keeping an eye on him, and every once in a while, Jimmy would find Lady Edith watching over him. She'd said it reminded her of during the war, when the house had been used as a convalescent home. Jimmy stopped by all the same, and any time he woke up in the night. Sometimes Mrs. Hughes would be nodding off in the chair, sometimes it was Mr. Carson, even, sometimes it was Anna. He'd caught O'Brien leaving, once. Sometimes, Thomas was alone in the early morning. Jimmy wanted to suggest that he move into the room to keep an eye on him, but he didn't know what people would think.

Mrs. Hughes was leaving Thomas's room with a tray as he came in. "Oh, James." She smiled wanly, her eyes tired. "I didn't see you there. I was just bringing Mr. Barrow some soup."

Jimmy knew that Thomas would abhor the idea of being so helpless. He felt indignant on his behalf.

Mrs. Hughes sighed, looking at Thomas's sleeping face from the doorway. "He looks so young. _Too_ young." She left the end unspoken: too young for someone who would never really live again.

"He's still in there." Jimmy said, matter-of-factly. "He will wake up, someday."

She nodded, and smiled sadly at Jimmy. "You're right. Get some rest, though."

"I'm going to sleep in here tonight, on the floor. I'll make sure he gets enough water. You don't have to get up again." Jimmy said. Mrs. Hughes made a face like she would tell him no, but she patted his arm instead.

"Only if you promise to be up and dressed by the time the nurse gets here tomorrow. We don't need you scandalizing her." She said, and left.

* * *

Jimmy was running through a lot of smoke. It wasn't smoke from a wood fire, or smoke from a cigarette. It was a grey-green kind of smoke, with a sickly smell to it. His boots were sticking in the mud. It was raining, the bitter cold kind of rain that felt like icicles stabbing your cheeks and neck.

He saw not another soul, but he ran on, one hand on the trench mud-wall, to guide him through the haze. Bullets began to whiz above his head. He was grabbed by an abject sense of fear- they were looking for him, and he was the only one left alive.

Far away, Jimmy heard someone sobbing. He followed the noise for an eternity, but only the sound of artillery grew louder. He forced himself to focus, pushing closer.

"Oh god, help me, please." A man reached out to Jimmy as he ran by. "Please, help us." His uniform was caked in blood and dirt. He was desperately clutching the body of a soldier.

Jimmy stopped, though his mind told him to run. This must have been the man he'd heard crying. The soldier he held on to was dead, his face covered in angry red scars that looked like an unfortunate acid splash.

"Thomas?" Jimmy asked. His voice was quiet but somehow audible.

"I tried to save him, I did." Thomas sobbed, shaking the soldier's shoulders. "I tried, I loved him. I thought I could stop him, but he ran in front of the guns."

Jimmy grabbed Thomas's arm. "We have to get up, we have to go. You have to leave him here, I'm sorry." Jimmy dragged him away, Thomas stumbling almost blindly behind him.

"You don't understand. I can't leave him. Who will take care of him, now that he can't see?"

Jimmy held on to Thomas's injured hand, his own hand covered in Thomas's blood. "I'm sorry, Thomas. He's beyond help, now. But you aren't." He led Thomas to a dugout. Inside, dirt rained down on their helmets.

Thomas sat on a cot. His face was covered in mud, and streaked with tears or rain or both. "Jimmy?" He asked, finally, his voice a bare whisper.

"Yes." Jimmy nodded, pacing. "We have to find a way out."

Thomas was lighting a cigarette. "Oh. Well, why didn't you say so? I know the way out." He took off his helmet, his hair neat and combed. He was now dressed in his livery. "I know all the secret passageways. I'll have to show you sometime." He raised an eyebrow, gesturing to a door in the wall. "This goes right out into the gardens. I found in once when I was snooping around in the cellar."

"Well?" Jimmy asked.

"Well what?" Thomas brushed dirt off his shoulder.

"Are you coming with me?" Jimmy asked, resting his and on the doorknob.

"Obviously."

They walked out into the yard, under a blanket of summer stars. The sky was so black and the stars were so bright, Jimmy was sure he knew how many of them there were just by looking. The house was far away, with all the lights on.

"They're having some kind of ball, I think." Thomas nodded towards the yellow-lit windows. "They won't miss us." He threw a quilt over the grass.

Jimmy sat down, leaning back on his elbows. He was much more comfortable now, in his pajamas. Thomas sat cross-legged next to him, still smoking placidly.

"Back in the trenches," Jimmy felt himself asking. "Who was that man?"

Thomas shook his head. "I never saw him in the trenches. He died in the hospital." He pointed in the direction of the village. "Edward."

"Oh." Jimmy asked. The air was warm around them. He thought he could hear music from the house. "You've got to wake up, you can't keep living in dreams."

"Oh, I don't know. I like it here. No one to bother me, 'cept you." He smiled at Jimmy in the dark. "This is what I wanted, but it could never be like this, not for me."

"But it's _not_ like this, this isn't real. You're just imagining all this." Jimmy watched a shooting star cross the sky, slower than in waking life.

"You are too." Thomas said, in a tone that sounded privately amused.

Jimmy laid back, his head resting in the damp grass. Thomas leaned on his elbow next to him. "I'm so, so sorry, Thomas. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I wish you would wake up, and everything would be alright again."

Thomas laughed once. "Nothing has _ever_ been alright, Jimmy."

"What can I do to convince you?" He asked.

Jimmy fell asleep while Thomas considered, or at least he felt like he slept, listening to the crickets and the jazz wafting from the house.

"Jimmy." Thomas shook his shoulder, the trail of smoke from his cigarette crossing over Jimmy's face. When he opened his eyes, the sky was the deep gray of approaching dawn. "Jimmy, hold on to this. Try to remember that I'm still alive."

"I _do_ remember." He answered, insistent. Thomas shook his head.

"When the sun rises, remember me. Please. I can't come back if you don't."

Jimmy didn't understand. "What? Why?"

Thomas looked confused. "I don't even know what I'm saying." He sounded dejected. "Don't take the blame, Jimmy. I wanted to protect you. I couldn't have you lying in this bed like I am. You're stronger than me, at that. I couldn't have stood it, if it were you in my place. Wouldn't've been able to live, I think."

Jimmy could feel himself drifting off or waking up.

"I'm sorry I tried to kiss you." Thomas was saying.

"S'okay." He mumbled. "I'm not mad anymore."

He could feel Thomas's laughter. "Just because I'm an invalid, now?"

* * *

Jimmy awoke. The sun was blearily making it's way into the sky. His shoulder hurt from sleeping on the wood floor. He sat up, anxious to see if Thomas had woken, too. He hadn't, though his face now looked peaceful in sleep.

Jimmy recalled the sound of bullets hitting mud, the sick smell of smoke, a clear night under the stars. Thomas's voice next to his ear. His brow furrowed as he struggled to recall his dreams. Then, clear as a bell, he heard Thomas's words in his head. 'When the sun rises, remember me.'

"What a strange dream." He said to Thomas, used to voicing his thoughts aloud in this room. How could he forget the other man, when he was sleeping on the floor in his room? When his recovery was Jimmy's primary concern?

It wasn't the first time he got the impression that he'd dreamed of Thomas. Naturally, he was on Jimmy's subconscious mind as well as his conscious. But there was something nagging at him, this morning. Remember what?

Jimmy checked on Thomas, resting his hand on his chest, to make sure his heart was still beating and that he was still breathing. "You need to get up, Mr. Barrow." He said, sitting gingerly on the bed. "You've got a lot of work to catch up on. The house is really suffering without you." Somehow, Jimmy knew that wasn't motivation enough for him, but he wasn't sure what else to say.

"If you wake up, maybe we can go look at the stars some night." Jimmy surprised himself with the words, almost wondering if he could take them back. They hung in the air around him, tugging at his memory. Maybe that had been in his dream. He wondered why he was dreaming of things like that.

* * *

He returned to Thomas's room that night with his pillow and blankets. The door was open, and he found O'Brien inside. He walked into the room. He was only wearing his pajamas, but he wanted her to know how much he didn't want her there.

She looked up at him, face neutral. "So you're his caretaker, then?"

He knew he looked angry, but he didn't care. "I don't see how it's any of your business." He threw his blankets on the floor.

She stood. "Don't mind me. Just paying my respects." She may have looked a bit sad.

"He's not dead." Jimmy spat. He knew he should control his temper, but he blamed her almost as much as he blamed himself.

"James." She said, halfway to the door. "If it's worth anything-"

"It isn't." He cut her off. She left, and he closed the door behind her.

Jimmy sat on the bed and read for a while. He wanted to make sure he was close enough for Thomas to hear his voice. "'It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is with diffidence that I allude to them. For a long time, even with the utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been impossible to make the facts public-'" He read different things too, the newspaper, a joke book he borrowed from Alfred. He went through it looking for the bawdiest ones, the ones in bad taste, the ones he thought would hake Thomas laugh. As though he would rise just to have a chuckle at them.

Jimmy gave him water from a glass, though half of it ended up in his own lap. He watched him for a long while, trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes moving behind his closed eyelids. Sometimes they did, but they didn't tonight.

"I'm going to have to go to sleep soon, Mr. Barrow." He told Thomas, who was impassive. Jimmy imagined that he was trying to respond. "I've been having dreams with you in them, I think. I'm trying to remember them." He spoke very quietly, like it was a secret between them. "I'll try to think clearly about them, tonight."

He laid in front of the cold fireplace, wondering if he should drag his mattress in the next night. It would be easier for everyone that way, if he were always there to keep an eye on him at night. He didn't mind, in fact, it was his burden to carry.

* * *

"Back so soon?" Thomas asked him, looking over his shoulder. He sat on a bench facing a snowy mountain. Jimmy sat next to him, bewildered.

"Where are we?"

Thomas shrugged. "I saw of photograph like this once. I think it's a place called Alaska. I'm just guessing the colors." Pine trees sprung to life, coated in dark green.

Jimmy knew there was something he meant to say. "I've just been awake. I was in your room."

Thomas nodded. "And?"

Jimmy desperately tried to hang on to his thoughts, but they were swirling away in a curiously temperature-less breeze. "Wait, no."

"You think the lake is frozen over, then?" Thomas asked, pointing to the glassy surface.

Jimmy shrugged. "Probably." Thomas began to walk towards it. Jimmy grabbed his arm, walking with him.

"You need to wake up." He shook him insistently. "We're both here, in your room. You have to wake up. I'm so afraid that you never will."

Thomas stepped out on to the ice. He held his cigarette in his mouth and slid across the surface in his shoes. "Jimmy, come out here!" He called behind him.

Jimmy felt like he was going to slip. He didn't know how Thomas stayed upright. "Thomas! Wait!"

Thomas paused, his cheeks red, his breath visible in the cold that Jimmy couldn't feel, smiling. "What is it, then? What do you keep going on about?"

"Thomas-" The ice became a cobblestone road. Big flakes of snow fell at his feet. "I need to know what will wake you up."

Thomas threw up his hands, but he was still smiling. "I haven't any idea. Don't see why I should have to."

"Because you have to." The wind was whipping away Jimmy's voice again. "You said it would work, if I remembered something."

Thomas came back over to him. "Alright." He nodded seriously. "You have to remember that I'm here with you. That you're here with me. No one else has come to see me."

Jimmy shook his head. "I don't understand. How could anyone else see you? This is my dream."

Thomas laughed. "This is _my_ dream, Jimmy. I'm the one who can't wake up."

Jimmy shook his head. "It's _my_ dream! I'm dreaming _right now_."

Thomas took a drag off his cigarette. "Then it's our dream."

Jimmy was confused. He almost let the snow blot Thomas out. "Wait, no!" He stumbled through the whiteout. Thomas's hand reached through and pulled him out.

They were back at Downton, walking under the windows. "Why," Jimmy asked. "-why do I need to remember this? I know it now, what's the problem?"

Thomas's arm was around his shoulders. "Because, love, what reason do I have to wake up, to come back to this-" he gestured to the windows, which were dark, like no one was inside. "-when I could travel the world with you, for the rest of my life?"

Jimmy pulled away from him. "This isn't your _life!_" He yelled, but his voice sounded afraid. "You've never been to, to- Alaska or wherever. You'll never go, if you don't wake up."

Thomas scoffed at him. "Of course I have. I've been everywhere."

"Thomas..." Jimmy couldn't give up, but the other man refused to listen. "There are things you can't imagine."

"It's not _just_ my imagination." He pointed to a door, and then they were in a room Jimmy didn't recognize. His eyes traced the patterns in the wallpaper for an eternity. They moved like liquid, until he realized they were still, a swirl of green and gold-foil brocade. Sleepily, he forced himself to look around the room.

"Where are we?" Jimmy asked. Thomas was examining a wooden box on a table, his shirt sleeves rolled up. He fiddled with a dial, and then the fuzzy notes of a song filled the room. Outside, Jimmy could see the lights of a city in the dark.

"London." Thomas said, resting his cigarette in an ash tray. "Look at this old thing. The new ones are much better. Knobs are so touchy." He tapped the box.

"What is it?" Jimmy asked. "A gramophone?"

"Radio. We need a new one."

Jimmy felt his head spinning. He sat in an armchair.

"There's a new Hitchcock flick playing, should we go? It's called 'Blackmail'," Thomas was asking, a roguish grin on his face. Jimmy pressed his hand to his forehead. He wondered if he was running a fever. "I quite liked that last one we saw. The sound was a bit off though."

"I guess we should go." Jimmy found himself saying, as he put on his shoes. "Wait, no, Thomas, I don't feel well." He made himself sit. "I keep losing track of what's happening."

Thomas was kneeling in front of him. "Jimmy, are you alright?"

Jimmy shook his head. "I think I'm dreaming."

"Mmm." Thomas nodded. "I guess that could be it."

Jimmy could feel tears filling his eyes, but he wasn't sure why. He told himself that he was being ridiculous. "Please wake up, Thomas. You're scaring me."

Thomas looked crestfallen. "Why would I want to wake up from this? Look at everything we've done here, Jimmy. I can't go back now."

Jimmy felt a tear track down his face. He wiped it away, angry. "This isn't right, Thomas, I don't want to see these things yet."

Thomas sighed. The room melted away, and then they were back under the stars, like the night before. The song from the radio was now wafting over from Downton. "You remembered this, didn't you?"

He nodded, the summer air easing away his fears. "I think so."

Thomas turned his head, so that they were looking at each other in the eyes. "Are you really here?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yes, I'm really here."

Thomas lit a new cigarette, having abandoned the old one in London. "I keep a picture of you in the second drawer in my dresser. I know you'll be mad about that."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "Where'd you get that?" He asked.

"Was a picture taken of the Granthams, Mary, Edith. You were standing on the side." Thomas admitted.

Jimmy stood up, preparing to run to the house. "And I can find it, if I look?"

"Yes," Thomas laughed at him. "But wait 'till morning."

"No." Jimmy shook his head. "I have to wake up now, or I'll forget."

Thomas waved his hand, cigarette smoke making an arc in the air. "Alright then. See you soon."

Jimmy was sitting up before he realized he was awake. It was so dark in Thomas's room that he didn't know whether or not his eyes were open. He was covered in a cold sweat. The memories of his dream swirled around his head, making him dizzy. He got up, and turned on the lights, half expecting to see Thomas sitting up. He wasn't.

Jimmy opened the second dresser drawer, rifling through old letters and newspaper clippings frantically. On the bottom of the stack, he found a large photograph. It was grainy, and the family was posed in the dining room. He remembered the flash of it being taken at a party the summer before, but he never realized that he had ended up in it. But he _was _in it, standing off to the side, holding a tray of cocktails.

His hands were shaking. He looked over to Thomas, who had not moved, yet his expression... Jimmy thought he could have imagined it, but Thomas looked like he was concentrating on something. "Mr. Barrow..." He turned to him, holding the photograph, like he expected an explanation.

There was one, however unbelievable. Thomas was stuck in his body, dreaming away his life, and Jimmy- only Jimmy, was invited to come along.

He sat next to him. "I remember now, Thomas. I remember our dreams. I-" Jimmy didn't know what to do. He shook Thomas's shoulder, but he was limp, like dead weight. "I'll find a way to wake you up, I swear it."

* * *

Jimmy held on to his new found knowledge of their shared dreams. In fact, it seemed to preoccupy him at all hours of the day. While serving dinner, he went through the motions. He would glance around every few minutes, hoping to catch Thomas's eye. Dinner was a somber affair now, in any case.

"How's Mr. Barrow? Anything change?" Alfred asked him at dinner. Jimmy was startled out of his thoughts.

"I don't know." He answered, cautiously. "He seemed more... _alert_ today, I think."

Alfred nodded slowly. Jimmy could tell by the look on his face that he thought it was wishful thinking, but had decided not to say so.

"I overheard Mrs. Hughes talking to Carson. Dr. Clarkson came by earlier. She said _he_ was saying that after this long, they got no way of knowing when or _if_ he'll ever come out of it."

Jimmy could feel his expression sour. "I know what they think, but that doesn't change facts that they don't _know_."

He could feel Alfred's eyes on him. Jimmy was anxious to go upstairs.

"You can't blame yourself forever, y'know?" Alfred was advising him.

"Of course I can." Jimmy answered.

* * *

He paced the floor for an hour, waiting for the Anna and Mrs. Hughes to leave Thomas's room. He had his blankets and pillow bundled, and had already pulled the mattress off the frame. It was waiting on the floor.

He stayed dressed so that he could check the room without scandalizing the women. He peered in through the door, anxious for them to leave.

"Hello, James." Anna greeted him as Mrs. Hughes layered Thomas with clean blankets. He nodded at her.

"James, you don't need to keep an eye on him _every_ night. Mr. Carson or I can switch off with you." Mrs. Hughes told him. He smiled politely at her.

"If it's all the same to you, Mrs. Hughes, I wouldn't sleep very well if I couldn't check up on him. It's become quite a habit." He said in the tone of an admission.

She nodded. "Well, let us know if you need a break."

Jimmy stood in the room with them, watching Thomas's face. "I swore today- earlier-" He hadn't meant to speak aloud. "I swore he was, he was making a face, like he was trying to wake up."

He saw Mrs. Hughes and Anna exchange glances. "I swear it. Like he was thinking about something."

"We all want to believe that's true, Jimmy." Anna said. She wore the same sad smile that Mrs. Hughes showed him so often. "But you shouldn't read too much into it. Maybe he's just dreaming."

Jimmy nodded. "Well yes, of course he's dreaming." He knew they thought he was a lost cause. Everyone did- he knew they talked about it when he wasn't there. It didn't matter, it wouldn't matter when Thomas finally woke up.

Eventually they left. Jimmy changed and dragged his mattress into the room. He didn't care what anyone said, he was leaving it in there. He wanted to sleep, desperately, to find the clues to what would release Thomas from his prison- but he was too anxious. He read to him for a while, but he kept losing his spot on the page.

"Thomas. I know you can hear me." He was quite sure that was true. "You have to help me. I can't wake you up if you don't want to wake up."

Jimmy thought that he saw his eyelids twitch.

He turned off all the lights and tried to sleep. After endless minutes, he finally began to doze off.

"Jimmy, look at this." His eyes flew open, then. He checked on Thomas, _sure_ this time that he would be awake. Again, he was not.

It took him another half hour to get to sleep.

* * *

"Where'd you go before?" Thomas asked him. He was standing knee deep in a pond, his pant legs rolled up, and stripped down to his undershirt. The air was heavy and muggy with heat.

Jimmy couldn't help laughing. Thomas was disheveled, his hair falling in front of his face. "What are you doing?"

"Swimming, of course. You getting in? It's hotter'n Hell out."

Jimmy looked down at himself. He was similarly dressed. "Alright." He dove in.

They swam for hours, the summer sun stalled in the sky. Jimmy followed Thomas to a rock near a waterfall. "I keep trying to talk to you, but you create all these diversions." Jimmy told him when they were both sitting on the rock. A flash of inspiration struck him. "You were _right_, Thomas! You were right, I found the photograph!"

Thomas was smoking again. "Did you, now?"

Jimmy nodded. "I remembered it when I woke up, and it was true. All of these dreams, we share them, Thomas."

Thomas nodded. "But the question is, _why?_"

"The question is, how do we wake you up?" Jimmy elbowed him.

Thomas flicked ash from his cigarette. He seemed to be considering a great many possibilities. "I'm still not sure why I _should_ wake up. Look at what I _do_ all day."

Jimmy frowned. "It can't be perfect, always. What about when you're alone? Or you think of something bad, like the war?"

A shadow seemed to cover Thomas's face. "The world is far crueler than my own mind."

Jimmy felt a pain shoot through him. He imagined that his body could feel it too, sleeping on the floor. "This is my fault, then, in more ways than one." A chasm of grief seemed to split open in his chest. "Thomas-"

The other man was shaking his head vigorously. "Jimmy, you're one of the good spots."

That didn't make Jimmy feel any better, at all. "God, Thomas, I should hope I wouldn't be, I haven't treated you the way you deserve."

Thomas smiled at him, guileless. "Jimmy, I've never felt this way about anyone. No one has ever made me happy just by being alive before."

Jimmy paused. The earth finally seemed to have resumed it's orbit around the sun. "Then do it for me."

A look of confusion crossed Thomas's face. His cigarette hand was still in the air.

"I can't live like this anymore, Thomas. I can't live with you in your bloody coma. I can't work, I can't eat, I can't talk to anyone. Everyone in the house thinks I'm crazy. They abruptly stop talking when I enter a room. I can't do it anymore."

Thomas threw his cigarette into the lake. Night fell quickly. "Then let it go, Jimmy." His voice was hard. He walked off the rock and back on to the grounds of Downton. Jimmy scrambled to follow him.

"Let _what_ go, Thomas?!" He ran after him, but Thomas's slow footsteps took him further and further away. Jimmy struggled against an invisible tide. "Thomas! Don't _do_ this!"

He fought against it for what could have been the whole night. He lost sight of him but he pressed forward, feeling his presence ahead, feeling his presence keep him away. "Thomas, please let me talk to you!" The words sounded muffled, like he'd been dropped into the lake.

Years passed. Jimmy could feel Thomas grow tired from holding him at bay. In one instant, he regained control over gravity, and was by Thomas's side.

Thomas had knelt in the dirt at some point. Jimmy sat down in front of him.

"Jimmy," his voice was quiet and sad. "I can't do this. I can't go back. I can live a thousand lifetimes with you, here. I can have a future that I'll never have. I'll be happy."

"Is it because- do you dream about me when I'm not here?" Jimmy asked.

Thomas nodded slowly, as though ashamed to admit it. "Yes, I do."

Jimmy grabbed his shoulders. "Show me."

"Show you what?" Thomas asked. His trembling hands took the pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"Everything," Thomas snorted at that, but Jimmy went on. "Show me what you dream of."

Jimmy came around slowly. He was laying in a large bed, alone in a room he didn't recognize. He forced himself to his feet, feeling them touch the plushness of an oriental carpet. He struggled to focus, but the light was glowing and golden in this room. He stumbled out the door and into a hallway.

"Thomas," he called. His voice was hoarse. "Where are you?"

"In here!" He heard the other man's voice from a room away, and followed it. He was in a sitting room now. His eyes seemed to swim around as he searched for Thomas.

"I can't-" Jimmy covered his eyes with a hand, and felt Thomas grab the free one.

"What's wrong?" Thomas's voice asked. Jimmy blinked and looked up at him. His hair was sporting the streak of gray he saw once, in a dream.

"Where are we?" He asked. His own voice sounded close up, like he'd finally woken after ages of fitful rest.

"New York." Thomas gestured around the room, like that held the answer. Jimmy looked at the high ceilings and felt dizzy.

"I feel so disoriented." He laughed. He let Thomas lead him to a sofa.

"It does that." Thomas answered seriously.

"I can't remember when we got in last night." Jimmy stretched out against the cushions. Comfort seemed to cover ever inch of this place.

"Well let's hope that doesn't become a trend." Thomas was grinning like a wolf.

Jimmy laughed. Music was playing on the radio.

Things went in flashes, out of order. Seasons changed. New York was coated in snow, then leaves fell. Thomas kissed him, and Jimmy let him. New buildings went up, fantastical things that Jimmy had never seen the likes of, changing the skyline forever. Sometimes he looked out the windows and they were gone. They woke up together, in the mornings. They walked the streets together. They saw all the movies of note. Sometimes they were in color, and then, they were always in color. Then they switched back to black and white. Sometimes they spent the whole day sitting in some park or another.

Sometimes everything slowed down.

"Jimmy," Thomas was kissing him. Jimmy tried to focus. "I love you."

Thomas was unbuttoning his shirt. His skin felt like it was on fire.

"I love you too." Jimmy said. He felt like he was being carried away on a current, and if he stepped out, everything would end. He tried not to think about it. _Don't wake up. _Thomas's hands distracted him.

One time, they were very old. Thomas's hair was fully gray. He wore a black suit in a strange cut. He was still handsome, like a movie star almost, wearing old like it was a fashion. He still stood straight, and though he was thin with age he looked healthy.

"Jimmy, listen to this song." He held up a record, a trail of cigarette smoke wafting from his hand. He put it on a gramophone with no horn, and music filled the room. Jimmy had never heard anything like it before. A man's low voice filled the room. It sounded like he was wailing or moaning.

Thomas sang along. _"'Before you slip into unconsciousness I'd like to have another kiss, another flashing chance at bliss..._'" He grinned at Jimmy. "Remind you of anything?"

Jimmy could feel himself rolling his eyes. "Who is it?"

Thomas held up a square with a color photograph on it. "The _Doors_." He raised his eyebrows. "Would you like me to read you the liner notes?" Thomas loved the liner notes. Electric guitar and keyboard flooded from the strange gramophone, clear as a bell.

"He's rather handsome, isn't he?" Thomas was saying.

"I don't think so." Jimmy shook his head. "You think all the men are handsome."

Thomas raised a gray eyebrow. "Only the handsome ones."

They watched a man walk on the surface of the moon on a box in their sitting room. It was the smallest movie screen Jimmy had ever seen, and with no projector. They watched the whole world in that box. Thomas shouted when a group called the Beatles broke up. A woman reported it on the 7 o'clock news. He sulked for days.

They had a maid, even. She wore jeans and tennis sneakers, and made her young son sit still in the kitchen. "Good for nothing ex-husband of mine," she was telling Thomas, who nodded understandingly. "He won't watch Brian for _one_ afternoon, while I work."

"It's alright." Thomas said. "We don't mind if you bring him. Maybe he'd like to watch cartoons?"

"That's awful nice of you, Mr. Barrow."

Once, there was a party. They had a lot of very old friends over. Anna and Mary visited. They sat at a table by the windows, watching snow fall. Jimmy made them tea and listened to their conversation.

"I wish John could have been here to see this." Anna's voice was warbling. "Can you believe it? Nineteen-seventy-one."

Mary was wearing a feathered hat and several strings of pearls. "Matthew would never have believed it. I wish he could see the things I've seen." They were laughing. Thomas poured them champagne at midnight.

Thomas was doing a crossword puzzle in bed. Jimmy leaned against his shoulder, looking at the date on the newspaper. It read_ April 7th, 1930_. He blinked, trying to slow down. "Wait." He said. Thomas turned his head to look at him.

"Is that wrong? _King Tut's final resting place. _Pyramid doesn't fit, I tried tomb and mausoleum-"

"Museum. No, stop. Thomas, we need to go back." Jimmy didn't feel like moving, though.

"Go back where?" Thomas looked around the room.

Jimmy put his arm across Thomas's waist. "I don't know, I'm so comfortable."

Thomas's brow furrowed in concern. "Are you regretting the move? Because we can go back to London. Lady Mary's got Anna and Bates here, we're just moral support."

"No," He sighed. "I'm happy here." Jimmy's mind cleared for a moment. "Thomas! We need to wake up! This isn't real!"

Thomas frowned, folding up his newspaper. He rested it on a nightstand. "I know."

Jimmy forced himself to sit up. His heart hurt. "Why is it so hard to leave?"

Thomas was quiet, looking at his hands. "I told you." He said after a moment.

Jimmy took his hands in his own. "There are things we aren't meant to know yet." It wasn't wisdom, it was only fact.

"It's only our imaginings, anyway." Thomas looked bleak. "But they were made so much better by you. There are things I could never have thought up."

"_No._" Jimmy said firmly. The lights went out.

He looked up, the stars dancing merrily over Downton. He was standing opposite Thomas, their hands still clasped. "You MUST wake up. You can't waste your life like this. Wouldn't you rather see everything happen, the way it's meant to?" The air was bitterly cold, creeping into his jacket through his sleeves.

Thomas had his head bowed and Jimmy couldn't see his face clearly in the dark. "Things will never happen like _that_."

"Thomas-" Jimmy grabbed his shoulders, forcing the other man to look him in the eyes. "You don't _know_ that. I was there _with_ you, Thomas. I don't regret it. I was happier than I've ever been." His throat felt tight. "But it doesn't change things. This is just _one night._ And in the morning, I will wake up, and be _alone_. Because you don't want to face the hard parts."

Thomas turned his face away. "And- what if this _is_ all just my dream?" The words sounded like they were hard to get out. "Suppose I wake up, and things are the same? I haven't _got_ anything to live for. I've got a job." He let out a short, mirthless laugh. "It's a good job, but having you is better, even if it isn't real."

Jimmy stepped back from him. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to. "Maybe... maybe things _will _work out."

Thomas went very still. His face bore an expression of pain. "Jimmy, please don't say that."

"I'll say it... if I feel it." Jimmy spoke very cautiously. "And I do feel something."

Thomas's jaw was working as though he were trying to say something. Over his shoulder, Jimmy spied a bit of light on the horizon. "I'm waking up." He said, somber. "Listen to me." He held the sides of Thomas's face. "I need you with me. There's no going back. We've obviously got something going on that neither of us are in control of."

Thomas looked almost afraid. Jimmy felt himself pulling away from the dream. "Promise me you'll consider it."

Thomas grabbed one of Jimmy's wrists. He looked stricken, but answered all the same. "Alright."

* * *

Jimmy's eyes were open. He woke just like that, not noticing the transition between sleep and wakefulness. His mind was filled with a thousand images- the things he'd seen in his dreams. He jumped off his mattress, sitting down hard on Thomas's.

"Wake up." He said to Thomas. "Wake up, you can do this." He was very serious. He made himself believe that it would work. "Thomas, wake up. Please wake up."

Thomas was as still as ever. Jimmy flung off his blankets, grabbing the other man's injured hand. His arm was heavy, but his palm was warm. "_Please_, Thomas. I need you to wake up. Don't leave me alone." He brought the hand to his face, rubbing the back of it against his cheek. He didn't know what he was doing. Anything to wake him up.

"Wake up, Thomas, _please!_" His voice went frantic. He brushed Thomas's knuckles across his lips. Then he kissed them, forcing himself not to think. "I'll do anything I have to do-" He said. He mulled the words over in his mind.

Jimmy looked at his face. Thomas seemed very young at rest, almost like how he looked in their dreams sometimes. He rested Thomas's hand in his lap and leaned over him. He wasn't sure what compelled him- maybe it was the memory of so many intimacies from his dream. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe he had read too many tales as a child.

He pressed his lips to Thomas's. He thought of an unfortunate night in the past. Then he thought of waking in the morning, soft light streaming in the windows. Thomas kissing him as the autumn leaves fell outside. His world was backwards- nostalgia for a future that hadn't happened.

Thomas did not wake. Reality washed over Jimmy like a bucket of ice water.

* * *

Jimmy glowered in the kitchen. He ignored the looks of concern from Daisy and Ivy. He had vowed that he would work extra hard to tire himself out today. His mind spun with thoughts. Thoughts of men walking over the face of the moon, of color photographs and nightclubs, strange music and Thomas. Movies they'd watched. Christmas specials on the television. Games of monopoly. Thomas was good at that one. Thomas smoking and cooking dinner. Jimmy thought he might black out.

Jimmy faltered carrying a tray up to dinner. He fell against the wall, barely recovering. He had a sobering thought: _You're losing your mind._

He'd been up to check on Thomas more times than he could count. He skipped lunch, and barged in on the nurse. Twice more in the hours before dinner, reading first the newspaper, then the Sherlock Holmes. Once again right before he went to serve.

He picked at his own dinner hours later, pretending to eat. He didn't need to arouse any more concern for his well being than there already was. He was aware of Mrs. Hughes's worried looks directed at him over the table. He couldn't think of anything but Thomas.

_But what can I do?_ He asked himself. Thomas seemed completely unwilling to cooperate. He had held up his end of the bargain, as best as he could fathom. He remembered their dreams, he _knew_ they were dreaming together- and even though Thomas had told him that he would wake after that, he didn't. Jimmy wasn't sure if it was because he _couldn't_- perhaps he _had_ been too gravely injured- or he just _wouldn't._

He excused himself quickly after dinner, heading to Thomas's room directly. He knew that Mrs. Hughes would be in later, so he left the door open and sat in the chair.

He watched Thomas's face. He didn't know what to say, after begging. Jimmy recalled the feeling of his unresponsive lips against his own. If that couldn't wake him, he wasn't sure what could. He felt everything closing in around him, blotting out the hope he had so firmly clung to. He thought of a life watching after Thomas, spending eons together in dreams, Jimmy toiling away in service. They should have been sneaking out to clubs in London, taking a boat to some remote island vacation, living on their own.

Jimmy tried to get a grip on his thoughts. So much time had gone by between two days- so much time, that everything he thought before had been turned upside-down. He needed to talk to Thomas about it. Maybe that would help. Maybe if he knew things could be the way he dreamed, or better, maybe then he could find the strength to wake up. Jimmy would have to be his guide back to the real world.

* * *

Jimmy found Thomas standing in the doorway of the house he had grown up in. The trees were blossoming riotously, petals blanketing the roof. The sun was so bright that Jimmy had to squint until he was in the shade.

Thomas was leaning in the doorway, teacup in one hand, cigarette at his mouth in the other. They studied each other for a while. Jimmy shaded his eyes with a hand.

"I see you went in." Jimmy said, pointing to the house. Thomas looked over his shoulder into the doorway, then turned back to Jimmy.

"Yes."

"And?" Jimmy asked, taking a step closer.

"And what?" Thomas said, exhaling smoke.

"What's inside?" He stood on his toes to look over Thomas's shoulder.

"Nothing. S'empty." Thomas answered, and stepped out into the sunlight.

"Is this what you've been doing? You're not running off into the future?" Jimmy asked him. Nothing was moving or changing, except for the soft breeze that loosed petals into the yard.

Thomas regarded him with a curious look. "No, I suppose I haven't. Doesn't seem the same anymore."

Jimmy nodded. He had no trouble hanging on to his thoughts here, without Thomas dragging him around from place to place. "Don't go anywhere. I want to talk to you."

Thomas put his teacup down on a rock. "Alright."

Jimmy didn't know where to start. So much had happened already. He closed the distance between them, resting his hands over Thomas's. "I was so upset, this morning. I hoped that I could wake you."

Thomas wouldn't look him in the eyes, instead, he watched their clasped hands. "I said I'd consider it." His tone held no bite.

"I want you to consider it _faster_." Jimmy said. He brought his hands up to Thomas's shoulders. "I kissed you, while you were asleep. So we're even."

Thomas's eyes went wide. "What?"

"Just like I said." Jimmy went on. "I kissed you, I thought it would wake you up."

"Ah." Thomas looked defeated.

"I _wanted_ to. And if you had woken, I would have kissed you again, you'd've made me so happy." Jimmy squeezed Thomas's shoulders, prompting him to look him in the eyes.

"I know you feel a lot of guilt, and I _told_ you that you shouldn't-"

Jimmy cut him off. "I've never kissed anyone out of guilt before. And certainly no man." He rested one of his palms against Thomas's cheek. "But I have to be honest, I think it would have been better if you'd been awake." He couldn't decide if Thomas looked like he wanted to bolt or not.

"Jimmy," Thomas's voice was very quiet.

"That's your invitation." Jimmy informed him, tilting his chin up a bit.

Thomas let out a shaky breath and turned his head to the side to take a drag of his cigarette. He threw it into the grass, exhaling a lungful of smoke. Jimmy finally tugged at the collar of Thomas's shirt, bringing his head down, and pressed their mouths together. Thomas was a still as stone for a moment. Then, his shaking hands reached around Jimmy's back.

It was strange to Jimmy, how many memories he had of them kissing- but nothing in their dreams compared to this moment. He kept them rooted firmly to the ground, no swirling current to pull them away, no shifting, no abrupt changes in scenery. He fit himself against Thomas, threading his arms behind his neck.

After a few moments, Thomas took a step back from him, holding Jimmy back at arms length. "So..." He took a deep breath. "What are you trying to say?"

Jimmy laughed at him. "Are you serious, Thomas? I'm trying to tell you- I'm trying to tell you that I want-" He was suddenly at a loss for words. "I want to try it, us being together. All those things you want in life, I want them too- but I need to do them... I need to do them the right way. In order. And, without waking up every day in between."

Thomas nodded once, slowly. He looked like he was in shock.

"The truth is, I think," Jimmy wasn't sure where the words that threatened to tumble out of his mouth came from. "I love you. I think I've- I think that I'm in love with you. I hope you still feel the same?" He asked, knowing the answer already.

Thomas opened his mouth as though he meant to speak. "-Y-yes." He forced out finally. "I have, this whole time."

Jimmy held on to Thomas's hand. "Then you'll wake up?"

Thomas shook his head, then spoke hurriedly at the look on Jimmy's face. "I'm not saying no- I'm saying, what if I _can't?_"

"You can." Jimmy started leading him by the hand away from the house, down the tree lined path. "I know you can."

"Where are we going?" Thomas asked, as the woods around them changed.

"Home." Jimmy answered.

Downton was cloaked in a gray fog when they arrived. Thomas looked up at the windows dubiously.

"Have you gone inside?" Jimmy asked, tugging on Thomas's sleeve.

Thomas's feet must have been made of lead. "No."

Jimmy tugged on his sleeve again, a bit more insistent. "Come on, then." They walked in through the front, the wide double doors thrown open. Thomas was inspecting every surface with his eyes, as though he'd never seen any of it before.

"We shouldn't be walking right in like this." He said.

"You're making excuses. We can walk where we like, it's not real." Jimmy reminded him.

Thomas followed him through the dining room, to the kitchen, up the stairs. "Wait." He said finally, when they stood outside the door to his own bedroom. "Jimmy, I don't know if I-"

Jimmy leveled him with a very serious stare. "You aren't backing out on me now, are you? I've gotten you this far, you _are_ coming back."

Thomas dropped his head. His shoulders slumped. "Alright." He raised his eyes to Jimmy's, touching his cheek with his knuckles. "You promise that you'll be there?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yes. I will be right there, just as soon as you wake up." He opened the door.

Jimmy had the very strange experience of watching himself sleep. At his side, Thomas seemed equally as stricken by it. Jimmy squeezed his hand. "You see? There you are. You've spent all this time running away."

Thomas scanned the room with his eyes, the same slow way he had with the rest of the house. "You _are_ here with me." He nodded at Jimmy's sleeping form.

"I _told_ you." Jimmy nudged him with his arm. "Go on then."

Thomas took a step towards the bed. He paused, looking over his shoulder at Jimmy. Jimmy waved at him encouragingly. In a moment, faster than Jimmy's eyes could tell, Thomas was standing before him, and then, he was gone. He blinked, shaking his head. It was like he'd never been standing there at all.

_Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up- _ he told himself, holding his hands over his eyes.

* * *

The cool night air washed over him. He took a breath. It felt like the first in a long while. He realized then that he was awake, and in his sleep, he'd kicked all the covers off of himself. He sat up quickly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. _Thomas_. He thought. He threw himself at the bed.

"Thomas!" He whispered, voice rough with sleep and worry.

Thomas was stirring, his eyes half-open. Jimmy felt his heart beating a frantic pace against his ribs.

"Thomas, Thomas, oh god, you're awake, you're awake, aren't you?" Jimmy felt all sorts of words pass through his lips. His hands were trembling as he smoothed Thomas's hair away from his face.

Thomas's only movement was to blink a few times, at first. Jimmy kept a hand at his shoulder, watching him intently. His brow furrowed and he took a shaking breath. Jimmy squeezed his shoulder.

"Thomas." He whispered hoarsely. Thomas winced, and slowly, as if through water, he pulled his arm out from under the sheets and pressed his fingertips to his own forehead. Jimmy's heart continued to flutter almost painfully. "Are you alright?" He went on, "Your head hurts?"

His eyes focused on Jimmy's face, tracking him slowly. He opened his mouth to speak, but made only a few weak sounds. Jimmy grabbed his water from the nightstand and looped an arm around his Thomas's neck, angling his head up a bit. Thomas weakly pushed the glass away from his face after a moment, coughing.

His voice was small and cracked with disuse when he finally spoke, his head rolling on Jimmy's arm to look up at him. "What're you doing here?" He asked, a touch of reverence in his voice.

Jimmy replaced the glass on the nightstand, shaking his head. "What do you mean-", he began, before realizing what the other man had meant. "Oh... you don't remember anything, then?"

"Remember... how long have I been-" Thomas looked down at his prone body, blinking slowly. "Out of it?"

Jimmy slid down on the bed, looping his arms around Thomas's shoulders. Thomas stilled, his free hand coming to rest on Jimmy's arm. "_Too_ long, _far _too long." Jimmy answered, pressing his face against Thomas's shoulder, as though the pressure would stop tears from falling.

"Jimmy," Thomas's broken voice drifted over him. Jimmy sniffed, lifting his head up. Thomas's face was the picture of befuddlement. Jimmy laughed lightly.

"It's alright, Thomas. We-" Jimmy stopped, suddenly overwhelmed by the memories of their dreams. So many years, crammed into so small a time. He didn't know where to start. "I'll tell you all about it. But not yet. When you're feeling better."

Thomas tried to sit up. He gave up halfway, slumping back against the headboard, winded. Jimmy tucked himself against Thomas's side, reveling at the physical feeling, so familiar yet so different from his memories. Thomas looked at him, eyes wide.

Jimmy smiled back. "It's a long story. You were there, but I think you've forgotten it."

"Amnesia?" Thomas asked. Thomas looked between them, as though trying to discern a very crucial piece of information.

"Sort of." Jimmy smiled at him. "I love you, Thomas. We're quite attached to each other, you and I." He laughed at the shock on Thomas's face.

"Now I know it must be amnesia, because I would remember..." The words died on Thomas's lips, his eyes studying Jimmy very intently. "Because last I knew, it was- Jimmy, are you saying-" He paused, swallowing a few times. "You're saying that you-"

Jimmy kissed Thomas's face. Pinpricks of tears were pressing into the corners of his eyes. "I'm saying that I love you and that I am so, so very glad that you've finally woken up." He kissed the side of his head, his cheek again, the corner of his mouth, until it seemed that Thomas's eyes were filled with tears as well.

"I think I must be rather lucky, then, wouldn't you say?" Thomas said cautiously, like it was a fragile reality that would break under questioning.

Jimmy laughed again. "If by that you mean _bad_ luck, than yes. You've been in a coma for four weeks, after that fight you saved me from."

"I've been asleep for a month?" He asked first, disbelief in his voice, and then, "Feels like it, too." He looked over at Jimmy, his eyes going wide again. "Must've done something to my memory, too, because I can't recall, for the life of me, when we-" He gestured between them.

"That's because we didn't, it's just me who's come around." Jimmy answered.

Thomas broke into a tentative smile. "And you say I'm not lucky. If I'm asleep, I hope I don't wake up."

"Please don't say that." Jimmy asked. Thomas laughed.

"I'm sorry- I just don't- you have to tell me what's happened." He said, shaking his head. "Because last I remember, you and I were barely on speaking terms."

In the morning, Jimmy would wake everyone up, racing all over the house to spread the good news. There would be visitors and medical check ups and all sorts of congratulations, and Jimmy would have to step back, unable to stay rooted to Thomas's side. And then, things would be much more complicated, but much easier, as well. And then finally, when everything died down, Jimmy would sit down and start trying to unravel the thread of their dreams. For now, the best he could do was try to explain.

Jimmy took Thomas's hand in his own, nodding. "Alright. But you aren't going to believe it, at first." He said.

* * *

**Working diligently on a part two. Thanks for reading!**


	2. New York

**This chapter is rated M. :D**

* * *

Jimmy sat in grass, amidst a semi-circle of open books and papers. He leaned back on an elbow to fish his cigarette pack out of his jacket pocket. Above him, the leaves on a beech tree were going yellow, leaving little flecks of gold in the grass around him. His head was pounding from the tedium of studying, so he kicked his a book closed with his feet and sighed, lighting his cigarette.

The cemetery was a relatively quiet place to study, or as quiet as any place was in the middle of the city. The headstones were clustered together after centuries of use, and it had now become more of a park than anything else, with joggers and people walking their dogs winding through the endless narrow walkways.

Jimmy sat up and traced the words on the closest headstone with his fingertips. It might have been morbid, but he felt comforted by his silent companions more than any living person. It wasn't just a preoccupation with death, either, but instead a disconnect from other living people. He'd been diagnosed with a dozen disorders as a child, but no amount of prescription drugs had ever changed the fact that he was trapped in an endless loop, as best as he could tell.

Things started slow, at first; the gradual awareness that someone has growing up. First nothing, then little things, a voice, a phrase, a memory that haunted him. Dreams that woke him, crying for his parents. Then, as he grew up, the waiting. Words whispered in his ear when he was alone. A voice that said his name from another room. Over time, he realized that half or more of his memories were not at all from his life. He repeated them to his terrified mother, about a trip he once took to Rome, walking the streets at night as an adult. Of wet mud and the corpses of soldiers. Of a room with golden wallpaper.

When he was very young, he mentioned a name to his mother, and she had exchanged a look with his father, and then they had brought him to a psychiatrist. At first, Thomas was referred to as his _imaginary friend_. As he grew up, his parents became increasingly frustrated by his stories involving _Thomas_, as so he stopped mentioning them, but the memories never went away. _Thomas_ was a face, a name, a voice of someone he never knew and yet someone he knew better than himself. A lifetime's worth of memories. A person he _used_ to know, _before._

Jimmy watched people walk around the cemetery for a while, wondering about each of them. A woman with brown hair was pushing a stroller, phone pressed to her ear, laughing. He wondered if she had had another life. One that caught her by surprise sometimes, when she saw the credits of some old movie or got lost down some side street, her feet returning her to places she'd been before but couldn't remember.

Or maybe it was only Jimmy's curse. Caught outside of time, when he should have moved on. Trapped forever with the memories of his lost love, and doomed to be forever parted from him. To go on and on for eternity, never able to really forget. He felt as though his awareness had split open once, and never repaired itself, sometime _before. _Sometime as far back as he could recall, decades and decades, when he had forced himself to _remember_, and something in him had broken forever.

When he'd moved to New York for school, his feet would take him past the cemetery gates every morning on the way to class. For Jimmy, these things were rarely coincidental. One afternoon, on the way back to his apartment, he turned and went inside, letting his feet guide him. He'd stopped before this grave- a shock, but _not_- when the name read Thomas Barrow. _I've finally found you, _he'd thought.

It was not surprising to him that the headstone next to Thomas's wore his own name. _That's where I __should be,_ he thought now, _wherever you are._

Jimmy tossed the end of his cigarette into the grass and began gathering his books. It was then that he heard a familiar voice:

"'scuse me-" It said, and Jimmy almost didn't look up. "I was wondering if I might borrow a cigarette?"

"What-" Jimmy whipped his head around, looking up from his spot on the ground. He'd have known the voice anywhere, but it was the person who the voice came from that startled him- a young man with dark hair, and a face he'd only seen in his dreams.

Jimmy stood up quickly, brushing the grass off of himself. "Um...", he dug his cigarettes out of his pocket with shaking hands. "You mean- you mean can I _give_ you one, because, I don't think you'll give it back when you're done."

The man grimaced and waved a hand. "Sorry, never mind." He turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Jimmy called after him, sharper than he'd intended. "No wait, come back." He said, even as the man had already turned around to face him. "Here, I wasn't-" He held out a cigarette to him, watching as he reached out and took it from him, hesitantly. "Need a light?" He asked, holding out his lighter next.

"Thanks." The man said, lighting it and passing it back to Jimmy. He was hit by a sense of familiarity so acute that he began to feel lightheaded. "I'm trying to quit, ya know?" The man said.

"Sorry." Jimmy said numbly, unable to bring his eyes away from the other man's face. His heart was racing. _Say something say anything. _"Thomas?"

The man looked up at him sharply, brow furrowed. "How do you- I'm sorry, we must've met somewhere..." He answered.

Jimmy nodded. "Yes, we have." He looked over his shoulder at the gravestones. "Look- these two-" He said, lighting his own cigarette. "Thomas Barrow, died April seventeenth, 1977. And then there, Jimmy Kent, died April _nineteenth,_ 1977. He didn't last very long without the other one."

"Wha-?" Thomas asked him, looking back and forth between the graves and Jimmy. "Well, thanks-"

"No, wait, you don't understand." Jimmy grabbed Thomas's arm frantically. "I've been waiting my whole life to see you again."

"Um-" Thomas said, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, you must be thinking of someone else."

"I'm not." Jimmy said, frantic. He came back to himself a little, leaning away and letting go of Thomas's arm. "Please, hear me out. You're Thomas, and I'm Jimmy-" He held out his hand for Thomas to shake, and he did, albeit hesitantly. "-and I know you don't know me, we _haven't_ met, not this time, but I remember you."

"Okay..." Thomas said slowly. Jimmy knew he thought he was crazy, but he was used to that by now.

"Wait-" He held a hand out to Thomas, then scrambled to pack away his books and papers in his laptop bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "Wait, let me walk with you. Where are you going?"

"My apartment." Thomas answered, raising his eyebrows.

"Let me walk with there with you?" Jimmy asked, knowing he would follow him no matter what he answered.

"Well, okay." Thomas shrugged.

They walked through the cemetery in silence. Jimmy couldn't keep himself from studying Thomas; the way he walked, the lines of his face, the way he smoked. He was very young, younger than Jimmy could ever remember him. They seemed to be about the same age.

"Thomas." He said, the name familiar on his tongue. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-five." He answered, leading them out of the iron gates of the cemetery and down the sidewalk.

"Me too." Jimmy said, in awe. "All this time I've been remembering you and dreaming about you, and I thought you were gone, forever."

Thomas's expression had changed from puzzlement to amusement. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes." Jimmy nodded. "I know you don't believe me. But you _know_ it's strange that I knew your name."

"I guess it is pretty strange." Thomas allowed.

"You're humoring me, but I'm telling you the truth. I know everything about you. Or, I did." Jimmy waved his hand in the air. He grabbed Thomas's hand and tugged him to the side, away from the pedestrian traffic. "Don't you ever feel like you're waiting for something? Or some_one_? Like there's someone out there who you love with everything in you, but you don't know who or where they are?"

Thomas laughed, not really at Jimmy but to himself. "You're nuts, kid."

"I'm _not_ nuts." He answered. "Please don't go away, _please_." He begged. "Please."

Thomas looked at him, a touch of concern on his face.

"You can forget everything I said, but I can't let you go away from me. Please, forget everything- I'm Jimmy, it's very nice to meet you, Thomas. Please let me come back to your apartment with you." Jimmy said, his pulse fluttering wildly.

Thomas laughed again. He shook his head, but said, "Okay."

Jimmy followed Thomas into a large brick building with exposed pipes. Paint was flaking off the plaster walls. Thomas looked over his shoulder curiously at Jimmy as he unlocked his apartment door. "You're really following me in? I could be a serial killer or something." Thomas said, pushing the door open with his shoulder.

"I could say the same thing to you." Jimmy said, pushing past him and setting his bag down on the floor by the door. He looked around as Thomas slid the chain into the lock. His apartment was one room with a small kitchenette and a bed in the corner. The only thing it showcased was an impressive arched window on one wall.

"It's so small." Jimmy said. Thomas snorted at him.

"Manhattan rent isn't exactly affordable." He answered, glowering.

Jimmy turned to face him, pulling his jacket off. "No, I wasn't criticizing. I don't like to think of you like this, alone in this room." The apartment was very orderly, however, with everything in it's place.

Thomas raised his eyebrows. "Sorry to trouble you." Jimmy could hear amusement in his voice.

"You always trouble me." Jimmy said, throwing his jacket over the back of chair at a small round table. "Come here?" He asked, holding up his hands.

Thomas stepped closer to him, his hands in his pockets. Jimmy rested his hands lightly on Thomas's shoulders, feeling the tension in him, like he was a moment away from from giving up and kicking him out of the apartment altogether.

"Do you want me to leave?" Jimmy asked him, interlocking his own hands behind Thomas's neck. He looked like he was forcing himself not to back away from the invasion of his space.

"No." Thomas answered quietly. "I don't know."

Jimmy sighed and leaned in closer, resting his chin on Thomas's shoulder and squeezing his arms tight around his neck. He pressed himself against Thomas fully, trying push away the loneliness and sorrow that weighed across his chest. Thomas was so painfully familiar to him- his smell, the feeling of his frame against Jimmy's, his height, his _voice_, completely unchanged- but strangely young and vulnerable. He tried to blot out every other feeling with Thomas's presence. Just to know he was _there_ and that he was _alive _and _real _even if he never felt the ways about him that Jimmy felt- he tried to hold on to him and make sure that it was enough for later.

He leaned back to look at Thomas, who was still standing very still, watching Jimmy with a dubious expression. "I know you don't believe me," Jimmy said, pressing his forehead to Thomas's. "But you have to feel something about this or you would have lost me before you got home."

"You've got a strange way of picking people up." Thomas answered, looking him in the eyes.

"Yes, I usually guess the names of every man I like the look of before following them home." Jimmy said. "It's a gift." Thomas snorted and shook his head.

Jimmy leaned up, watching Thomas's eyes go wide for a moment before he touched his lips to Thomas's. They watched each other warily, eyes open. Jimmy was suddenly nervous to go through with it, as much as he had fantasized about this moment- perhaps the knowledge that this day would never come had kept him from being fully prepared for it.

It was only the barest brush of a kiss, his lips ghosting across Thomas's, but Jimmy's pulse picked up after a moment, his breath going shallow. He leaned away again to look at Thomas's face.

"Will you?" He asked, unsure of the question. He dropped his eyes to Thomas's collarbone and loosened his hands from around the other man's neck, unbuttoning the top button of Thomas's shirt.

There was a touch of color on Thomas's face. "Will I what?" He asked, his voice scratchy.

Jimmy shrugged. "I don't know, do something? I don't really know what I'm doing." He said, finding himself unable to look back up at Thomas while he said it. He pressed his lips against Thomas's throat instead. It wasn't exactly true- he had years and years of memories that told him what to do, but no practical application.

"Umm..." Thomas hummed as Jimmy popped open the next button. He put his hands on either side of Jimmy's neck and pulled him back for another kiss, this one much less inexpert than the first. Thomas pressed against him without his former reticence, and Jimmy's hands fell to his waist, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, his lips parting under Thomas's.

"Okay, okay..." Jimmy said, ducking his head away. His trembling hands tugged at the rest of Thomas's buttons. "Please-"

"Yes, okay." Thomas answered, pulling the edge of Jimmy's tee shirt. He stepped back and pulled it off over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him. He felt overexposed suddenly, watching Thomas's face, awash with color, looking him over.

"You too." Jimmy pushed Thomas's unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, watching as it dropped to the ground, and they both paused, looking at each other for a moment.

"It's a bit crazy, isn't it?" Thomas asked, gesturing between them.

"No. Yes, I don't know." Jimmy answered, his mind a confusing swirl of memories and memories of dreams. He pressed himself against Thomas again, warily in his half-undressed state, gasping at the skin-on-skin contact. He brought his arms up on Thomas's shoulders again, moving slowly- he wasn't sure if it was to not startle Thomas or himself.

Thomas brought his hands to rest on Jimmy, one flat on his back and one in his hair, kissing him again and again. Jimmy felt himself growing feverishly warm- his face was flushed, he was sure, and limbs were tingling, and the spots where Thomas's hands touched him seemed to burn. A heaviness settled over him, pressing against his limbs and stomach.

Thomas's hands traveled all over him- running down his back, across his chest, his knuckles across his abdomen, just above the hem of his pants. Thomas's fingers stilled over the top of the zipper, his mouth and tongue on Jimmy's neck.

"Yes, _please_-," Jimmy said, nearly crying out when Thomas's hand brushed against the front of his pants. He pressed his mouth against Thomas's shoulder, biting his lip, when Thomas hands undid the button and zipper. One of his palms returned to Jimmy's back, pressing them closer together.

"You've never done this?" Thomas was asking- his voice closer than Jimmy was expecting, after a lifetime of hearing it just out of range. He lifted his head, swallowing nervously.

"How could I?" He asked Thomas. "You're in my head. I can barely talk to other people." He ached for Thomas to keep doing whatever it was he was planning on- his bare skin itself was almost too much for Jimmy to bear.

"No pressure, then?" Thomas laughed.

"_Please_, just-" Jimmy was beginning to feel lightheaded. He pressed his hips against Thomas's thigh, shudders of pleasure wracking his body. "Mmm, god-" He bit his lip again, forcing himself to keep quiet.

"Okay, alright." Thomas said, kissing a spot under Jimmy's jaw, his fingertips pulling away the waistband of his underwear and pushing them down. Jimmy rested his head against Thomas's collarbone, trying to watch as Thomas's hands ran over his hips, but he ended up looking away lest his nerves get the better of him.

Jimmy bit the top of his own forearm when Thomas touched his erection, lightly as first, as though he expected Jimmy to bolt, his other hand bracing on Jimmy's back. Thomas wrapped his fingers around him after a moment, squeezing gently. Jimmy bit his tongue then, digging his fingers into Thomas's shoulders. He leaned into Thomas, feeling as though gravity were pressing on him sideways.

"You okay?" Thomas asked, moving his hand a bit. Jimmy dropped one of his arms away from Thomas's neck, covering his mouth with his hand. He nodded, feeling tremors run throughout his body. He felt like he was burning up, awash with sensations he only half-remembered- so much stronger than the result of mere physical acts. Thomas's hands were the only thing he could feel anymore, his own heartbeat in his ears drowning out all sound.

"You're so quiet." Thomas was laughing at him, his voice sounding breathless. "You don't have to cover your mouth."

Jimmy dropped his hand to Thomas's chest, using it to push himself up enough to press their mouths together. He broke away, breathing raggedly. He could feel the callouses on Thomas's fingertips and palm, and hazarded another glance down, watching Thomas touch him.

"Ahh, _Thomas-_" He hissed, dropping his head down again and closing his eyes. "Please- faster-"

Thomas obliged, moving his hand firmly back and forth, and Jimmy began to feel overwhelmed by the sensation, aware dimly that all kinds of words were passing through his lips, namely 'Thomas' and 'I love you' and all sorts of other sounds that he was sure were unintelligible. Thomas's mouth pressed warmly against his neck and shoulder and the side of his cheek. Waves of pleasure overtook him, building to the point of almost-pain. His hips moved sharply towards Thomas, and he tensed, shuddering. "_Please, please_-" he whispered- or yelled- as he came, the shocks of it rippling all throughout him.

It seemed like minutes later when Jimmy came back to himself. Thomas had not moved, save for to pull Jimmy closer, taking most of his weight against him.

"God." Jimmy lifted his head, suddenly quite embarrassed. He took a step back with shaking legs, looking up at Thomas's face. Thomas was flushed, his chest moving up and down with sharp breaths. "Come here, I can't stand." Jimmy said, pulling Thomas by the arm to the bed.

They lay facing each other. Jimmy watched Thomas's face, unable to believe that they were there together, looking eye to eye. He traced the lines of Thomas's cheekbones with his fingertips, over his lips, smoothed over his eyebrows with his thumb. "If I'm dreaming, please don't wake me up." He said.

Thomas grasped his hand and kissed his palm fervently, then leaned across the space between them, sliding his lips and tongue over Jimmy's, still holding on to his hand.

"Sorry." Jimmy said, when Thomas had leaned away for air. He pulled his hand away and ran it across Thomas's chest- familiar, yet strange and almost too-real. Thomas licked his bottom lip, his eyes on Jimmy's in a way that made him self-conscious. "I'm nervous." He said, then grimaced at himself

"It's okay," Thomas answered, "you don't have to do anything."

"But I want to." He answered, pressing his palm against Thomas's ribs. "Take these off?" He said, tugging on a belt loop on Thomas's pants. He watched as Thomas undressed, squeezing his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

It was a bit intimidating, laying next to a naked, aroused man, even if it _was_ Thomas. Jimmy kept his eyes on Thomas's face, his hands wandering over him experimentally. "I've thought about this so many times."

"Oh?" Thomas asked, his voice shaking. Jimmy reached his hand lower, touching Thomas's erection the way Thomas had touched him, before.

"Ahh-" Thomas said. The sound emboldened Jimmy, and he leaned closer to Thomas, who shut his eyes against the sensation. Jimmy kissed him, Thomas responding absently, while he tried to copy the way Thomas had moved his hand. Quickly for a moment, then slow again, not too rough, not too gentle.

"Mm-" Thomas's brow was furrowed, eyes shut tight. Jimmy watched his face for signs that he was doing everything right. Although he figured it should have been rather intuitive, he was clumsily nervous, his free hand still trembling between their chests.

"Am I any good at this?" He asked, biting his lip.

Thomas let out a breathless laugh, his eyes fluttering open. "Yeah." He breathed, running his fingers through Jimmy's hair and kissing him, roughly. "_Ahh_- I, um- I'm going to-"

"Yes." Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. "Thomas- please do-". He watched, in stunned awe, as Thomas thrust into his hand, his hands clutching around Jimmy's side and the nape of his neck. He shuddered, pressing his forehead against Jimmy's, lips parted, making no sound. "Ah- _fuck_," he said, coming.

Jimmy closed his eyes while Thomas's breathing returned to normal, trying to calm himself and his nerves, but beginning to feel a touch rapturous- _he's here he's really here and I found him,_ he thought, wrapping his arms firmly around Thomas's shoulders.

"Sorry." Thomas's voice broke him from his thoughts, and he opened his eyes.

"What for?" Jimmy asked him, brow furrowing. Thomas shrugged, leaning away from him a bit. He sat up and ran his hand through his hair, composing himself. "No, wait- don't get dressed or anything."

Thomas snorted at him. "What?"

Jimmy tugged on his arm. "Come lay here with me. Hold on, let me get my cigarettes." He stood up and crossed the room, glad to find that the shaking in his legs had subsided, and returned with his jacket. "I should probably take my pants off too, huh?" He looked between himself and Thomas sheepishly.

"Not if you don't want to." Thomas said. He was watching Jimmy with a bemused expression. He sat down on the bed next to Thomas, leaning against him, longing for contact.

"Do you feel anything for me?" Jimmy asked, taking a cigarette out of his pack. "Can I smoke in here?" He asked. Thomas leaned away, grabbing an ashtray off his nightstand. "Thought you were quitting?" He said as Thomas handed it to him.

"Old habits die hard." He smirked at Jimmy, but waved off his attempt to offer him a cigarette. "To answer your question," he sighed, resting his back against the wall. "I don't know you at all."

Jimmy lit his cigarette and tossed the lighter on the windowsill. "You do, though." He said, after a long inhale of smoke. "Or else you wouldn't have even let me get through the door."

Thomas shook his head. "You think I've never taken a stranger home before?"

Jimmy swallowed, his throat feeling tight. "Ah, I see," he croaked, trying to force himself not to feel hurt by it. He'd always hoped that if they ever met, that they would share their memories- or at the very least, that he would be even a little bit familiar to Thomas at all.

"I'm not trying to- I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Thomas said.

"It's okay." Jimmy said, coughing. "I should have realized that you'd be difficult."

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Jimmy said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I just came back here with you, let you de-virginize me- at least, partially- gave you a pretty spectacular hand job, I mean, for my first try, and now I'm offering you a cigarette, which I know you _desperately_ want, and you still manage to find a way to be contrary."

Thomas eyed him curiously. "You've _really_ never done that before? You're twenty-five, right?"

Jimmy shrugged, feeling his face grow warm. "I _told_ you already. I've never..." He looked up at Thomas, trailing off. "I just realized something. I've never ever felt like this when I was with anyone."

"That's not the same as being a virgin." Thomas said, raising an eyebrow.

"What- no! That's not what I'm talking about. I mean," Jimmy pressed a palm to his forehead. "There's nothing. I'm usually bombarded by all these thoughts- I mean, I still remember them, but- they're so much more comforting than other people. Except for you." He rested his head against Thomas's shoulder. "And _being_ here with you, I feel like I'm _really_ here, not just wandering around in the wrong time or something."

Thomas was regarding him seriously when he looked over. "Don't say it." Jimmy told him, holding up a finger.

"Say _what_?" Thomas asked.

"That I'm crazy! If I have to hear that from one more person-" He shook his head. "I'm not crazy. I just remember things about my life, my _last_ life that I wasn't supposed to."

"So you remember your past life." Thomas said flatly, not exactly questioning.

"Yes." Jimmy answered, nodding. "I've always remembered it, since I was a kid." He held his cigarette hand over Thomas's lips. "You're _dying_ for it, seriously."

Thomas shot him a disapproving look, but leaned forward for a drag anyway. "Menthol." He said, exhaling as he spoke. "Don't like filtered cigarettes anyway."

"Of course not." Jimmy laughed. Thomas was so heart-breakingly familiar, so _real_ to him, that it made Jimmy finally understand that maybe there was a reason to live, to be happy, to move on from the past. He slid his arm over Thomas's chest, insinuating himself into an embrace.

"So," Thomas said, looking over at him. "If you can remember your _past life-c_an you remember dying?"

Jimmy's eyebrows shot up, and he chuckled at Thomas. "Not exactly. I took a bottle of sleeping pills."

"You _what?_" Thomas asked, taken aback.

"Well, I was _old _ and lonely. _He_ was old and lonely. It wasn't exactly like you were coming right back, you know what I mean?" Jimmy said, flicking his cigarette over the ashtray. "Let me tell you about it. I'll start as far back as I can remember."

Thomas laughed, shaking his head, but Jimmy knew it was only because he was going to agree. "Okay, alright, why not?"

Thomas put on a pair of pajamas, turned on the lights, pulled the curtain over the window, and Jimmy ordered them sandwiches over the phone. "I bet you want something gross like capicola or prosciutto or bologna something." Jimmy ordered for him.

They sat on the bed with their sandwiches, and Jimmy began to tell the tale of their life _before_, starting at the beginning, or at least, as close to the beginning as he could get. He skimmed briefly over his childhood: "I can't really remember that part that well. I mean, I remember things, but I only know if they were then or now if I can remember not having electricity."

"How far back are we talking about?" Thomas balked, holding his sandwich away from his face.

"Late 1890s, early 1900s, I'd say." Jimmy answered, having repeated it to at least ten shrinks over the years.

He skimmed briefly over the war, and how he'd somehow managed to survive. "They're the most horrifying memories of all of them." He said, detatchedly. "I still have nightmares about it."

Then he skipped ahead, to meeting Thomas. "A lot of this is fuzzy. But we lived in some kind of castle-"

Thomas burst into laughter. "A castle? How old _were_ we, 380?"

Jimmy elbowed him. "A _manor, _then. We were servants." Thomas nodded at that, rolling his eyes a little.

"I was a waiter or something- I don't remember what you did- something complicated and tedious. Always ordering everyone around and stuff." Jimmy lit himself another cigarette.

"And then?" Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Well... Then something happened. You were completely in love with me and I don't remember why but we had this big fight about it. After a while we started having these... these _dreams_, together, and I, well, the other me, he could see the future in them. Some big thing happened, and they left the giant house, moved to London, then later, to New York, and they stayed there until they, uh- _we_- died." Jimmy said. "It's not that simple, though. I mean, I remember _everything- _well, maybe not everything. I remember all the things you _would_ remember if you lived a whole life."

"Like what?" Thomas asked. Jimmy looked up at him, reaching out to push Thomas's hair out of his eyes.

"Well...," Jimmy started, running his knuckles along Thomas's face. "You always kept your hair back, like this-" He reached up and held the strands away from Thomas's forehead. "Combed back. And you smoked _constantly_, I mean, always, right up until the day you died. I have no idea how you managed that. You were almost 90."

He leaned his shoulder against Thomas's, taking comfort in his presence. "I remember falling in love with you." He said quietly. "I remember how hard it was to keep it a secret. It was a big deal!" He said at Thomas's surprised look. "It really was. You almost got arrested once in London. It was better here. I mean it was still illegal but they weren't going to throw you in jail like back home."

Jimmy stubbed out his cigarette and went on. "I remember our bedroom. It had this weird, like, Victorian wallpaper with gold foil. We had a giant bed, too. We had this one red teapot for 30 years. I don't know what happened to it because it was still in the house when we died." He took a drag off his cigarette. "Or any of it. We didn't have any family really. I think I had some cousins and a great aunt somewhere but I hadn't talked to them since I was in my twenties."

He looked up at Thomas, who was staring at him, perplexed, his mouth hanging open. "What?" He asked.

Thomas closed his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief. "Let me get this straight. You and I worked in this big old house- where?"

"I think it was Yorkshire?" Jimmy answered.

Thomas frowned at him. "Okay, so we worked in this house- I grew _up_ there, you know?"

"Really?" Jimmy asked, leaning forward excitedly. "No way, that's amazing! What was it like?"

"It's not amazing-" Thomas waved a hand between them. "Hold on. We worked in this house, had this illicit love affair or whatever, and then- did I hear this right- _you had dreams where you saw the future_?"

"Yes, that's definitely the strangest thing I've told you." Jimmy replied, sarcastic.

"But don't you think a more likely explanation these are all just, I don't know, dreams, or daydreams or something, and that you were seeing the future because you already _knew_ the future, because you're alive _now?_" Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

Jimmy shook his head. "Do you really think I haven't thought of that? Besides, I wouldn't know anything about the thirties or forties when I was a little kid. And there aren't a lot of picture books that go into full detailed descriptions on the etiquette of serving dinner to a bunch of rich British snobs."

Thomas chuckled at him. Jimmy knew what he was thinking: _okay, I think you're mad, but you're good looking enough to keep seeing. _"And you have a detailed knowledge of that?"

Jimmy blinked slowly, feigning nonchalance. "Well, I mean, I have a _general_ idea. More than most people are born with." He looked over at Thomas, feeling suddenly ashamed. "I know that you don't believe me, and I don't blame you. In fact, I'd be a little concerned if you _did._"

"Why's that?" Thomas asked, getting up to throw away the wrappers from their food and coming back with a small bag.

Jimmy snorted at him. "You roll your own cigarettes?" He asked, and Thomas narrowed his eyes at him.

"I didn't do that before?" He asked, with a challenging smile.

"No," Jimmy answered. "But they were a lot cheaper then."

Thomas sat back down on the bed and Jimmy watched him place the little bits of tobacco into square of paper, his hair falling over his eyes. He watched his deft fingers roll it closed, his tongue flicking out to lick the the paper shut. Jimmy fetched his lighter from the windowsill and handed it to him, keeping his eyes on Thomas's profile as long as he could.

"Even if I'm just some crazy guy- and I guess I could be- I know you're lonely, Thomas. And I am too. So even if you don't ever believe me, I hope that maybe you could still think of me as a person you might be interested in." Jimmy said to him, watching Thomas smoke. Thomas looked over at him sharply.

"I'm already interested, Jimmy." He answered. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he leaned over, resting his palm on the side of Jimmy's face and kissing him.

* * *

Jimmy slept over. He didn't discuss it with Thomas at all, he didn't even ask, he just got under the covers at one point and fell asleep, curled up against him. Thomas didn't have the heart to wake him up, even if he _was_ some lunatic he'd picked up on the street, because Jimmy didn't look like he slept much, if the pronounced blue hollows under his eyes were anything to go on.

Thomas sat up with his laptop for a while. It wasn't very late yet, when he started to doze off, but the bed was warmer with them both in it, and he could only fend off it's inviting comfort for so long. He put his arms around Jimmy before he fell asleep, feeling strange about it, but also content.

He'd never been with anyone who _wanted_ to be close to him for as long, and certainly not anyone who he had just met that day. If he was honest with himself, he knew that he was the same way usually; eager to retreat into his bubble of personal space after any sexual interaction. But Jimmy was just so earnest about all of it, so much sweeter and more intimate that anyone he'd ever slept with, even though they hadn't gone even close to as far as Thomas went with most of his partners. And part of him felt like Jimmy deserved affection, if he really _had_ never been with anyone before. Someone who waited so long would obviously be more sensitive to rejection, perceived or real.

He couldn't think about the crazy things Jimmy said. Some of his memories sent a chill up Thomas's spine, for whatever reason. It was eerie how completely Jimmy believed in his own delusions.

Jimmy shifted in his sleep once Thomas was laying down, resting his head on the pillow in the space between Thomas's head and shoulder, and laying his arm across Thomas's chest. His fingers clutched against his side, as though Jimmy was trying to gauge in sleep if Thomas would pull away from him.

Thomas realized that he was asleep slowly, a small voice in the back of his head announcing it before fading away as he was fully immersed in a dream. He was in a strange room, or hallway, really, an almost-spent cigarette burning between his fingers. He was waiting for something, he knew, but when he thought it about it, he didn't know what he _was_ waiting for, so he started to walk away.

Jimmy rounded a corner and Thomas stopped walking. He looked at Thomas briefly before his eyes went darting this way and that, craning his neck around to look in some room Thomas couldn't see.

"Are you ready?" Thomas heard his voice own ask. Jimmy nodded quickly, and they slipped out of the door at the end of the hall.

Outside, there was a courtyard Thomas didn't remember. Jimmy followed him, stopping to rest a hand on his arm. "Wait." He said, putting on his hat.

"What is it?" Thomas asked him.

"I can't go. I want to _badly_, but-" Jimmy spoke with an accent like Thomas's. "I have class tomorrow, and I really can't go sneaking around at this hour."

"Jimmy." Thomas felt himself pause. He felt very confused. "Are you alright?" He reached out, grasping Jimmy's shoulder. "You're not making sense. What _class?_"

Jimmy shook his head, his eyelids fluttering shut. "N-no. I-" He recovered, standing up straight. "I'll come visit you tomorrow after work." Jimmy said, leaning in to kiss Thomas on the mouth.

Thomas jumped back. "_Careful_." He hissed, looking around suspiciously. When he was certain there was no one watching them, he leaned in toward Jimmy and whispered. "_What_ are you going on about?"

"Huh?" Jimmy asked, his eyes unfocused. Thomas felt a jab of fear. "Nothing, why? What did I say?" Jimmy said, gaze finally tracking over to Thomas's face.

Thomas held Jimmy at arm's length, studying him. "Perhaps we'd better stay in tonight. I think you're coming down with something."

"_No!_" Jimmy shook his head insistently. "You've already paid for the room, we're going! I'm bloody _fine! _We'll have to wait for _months _ for another night we can sneak off."

"But you just said-" Thomas was thoroughly confused.

"_Come on!_" Jimmy hissed, dragging him away by his arm.

He wasn't exactly sure when it happened, but he was suddenly inside, facing the hall again. This time, he was in the room that Jimmy had looked into before, seated at a long table. There were cooking noises from a nearby room, as though lots of people were moving things and pots were bubbling over on a stove. He watched a woman leave through the doorway, only seeing her back, and then he was alone, until he looked down and realized that Jimmy was sitting across from him.

Jimmy looked very angry. His arms were crossed over his chest, his lips sealed together in a thin line. He was dressed very elaborately, like he was waiting to attend some sort of white tie event. Thomas waited for his dream self to take over and speak, but he was just left sitting there, staring at Jimmy dumbly.

Jimmy pushed his chair away from the table roughly, turning on his heel and storming out of the room. Thomas panicked, standing up quickly, rushing around the table. He followed Jimmy into the hall, reaching for his arm.

"Jimmy, wait, what's wrong?" He asked, resting his fingers on Jimmy's shoulder. He whipped around, dislodging Thomas's grip, obviously livid, his face flushed.

"_Do not touch me!_" He whispered sharply at Thomas, his lip curling. "Haven't you done _enough_ already?"

"Jimmy, what are you talking about?" Thomas asked, at a loss. The sight of Jimmy recoiling from his touch crushed something in him; Thomas felt it like a physical pain.

"_Don't _call me that!" Jimmy snarled. Thomas felt his heart rate speed up. He had no idea what he was supposed to be calling him if not his name. "I haven't a clue how you've managed to stay on here, but trust me when I say that _doesn't mean we are friends._" Jimmy spat, as though the words tasted bad in his mouth. "Or _anything else._"

Thomas suddenly longed for the Jimmy he'd left in his apartment, the one who had leaned up against him and kissed him sweetly, who had begged to be allowed to follow Thomas home, who had curled up next to him, shaking on his bed, having only moments before professed his undying love. He wondered with a start if that Jimmy had been the dream, and this had been the real one all along.

"But what have I done?" Thomas asked, realizing he would resort to begging if he had to.

Jimmy's eyes widened. Thomas's question seemed to push him into even more of a quiet rage. "I think we both know what you've done." He answered coldly, and then he turned away from Thomas again, stalking down the hall.

Thomas turned around, trying to gather his thoughts before following Jimmy. He didn't know what to ask, or what he could say to make up for whatever he had done. Maybe he'd pushed too much, and pressured Jimmy into something he hadn't been prepared for- but when he turned around to apologize, he realized that he couldn't see _anything_, and even though he blinked a few times, the blackness wouldn't go away.

"_-you can do this!" _He heard Jimmy's voice, but he wasn't sure where it was coming from. "_Thomas, wake up! Please wake up! Please, Thomas, I need you to wake up! Don't leave me alone!"_

"I'm not, I swear!" Thomas called out, but he heard his own voice like his head was wrapped in cotton.

"_Wake up, Thomas, please! I'll do anything I have to do-" _Jimmy's voice lapped over itself. "Oh god, Thomas, I can't lose you again. Please..."

Above him, the blackness blurred into dark grey-blue, and he blinked a few times, trying to get his eyes to focus.

"Thomas..." Jimmy was whispering next to him. "Please-" His voice sounded choked, as though he were crying.

Thomas realized, still half in his dreams, that his eyes were open an he was awake, staring at the ceiling. The dream-memories pounded against his brain all at once, as though they had happened simultaneously. He turned towards Jimmy, who was still pressed against him, his shoulders shaking.

"What's wrong, what is it?" Thomas asked, recalling Jimmy's angry face from his dreams. He felt strange and unsettled, wishing desperately for the details to fade away, but they would not.

At first, he thought Jimmy was still asleep, but then he lifted his head up, looking Thomas over in the dark. "Please don't..." He wrapped his arms around Thomas, pulling them together, resting the side of his face against Thomas's chest. "Don't leave me. I couldn't take it- I feel like if I lost you again it would kill me."

Thomas didn't know what to do, except hold on to Jimmy a little tighter. He kissed the side of Jimmy's head and said, "It's okay, don't worry, it's all okay." He knew he shouldn't say it, he knew that he probably shouldn't encourage any of it, and yet he couldn't help himself.

"I can't take it, Thomas." Jimmy said, and he could hear him trying unsuccessfully to steady his voice. "I'm sorry, I'm trying not to scare you away." He shuddered, one of his hands clutching into the fabric of the back of Thomas's shirt. "I'm not okay, you should know that."

Thomas wanted to say _I'm not okay, either_ or _I think I could tell already _but instead he just said, "I don't care."

Jimmy laughed once, more of a sob than anything else. "I don't know how that's possible. There's something wrong with my brain- one way, or _another_."

"I _don't care_." Thomas repeated.

Jimmy pressed his face against Thomas's collarbone, as though he was unable to get close enough to him. "I know you don't know me, I know you can't remember me, but it's real, I swear it is-" Thomas felt anxiety grip him, from his dreams, which must have been brought on by the things Jimmy had said earlier. The image of Jimmy's face, twisting with disgust as he looked at Thomas, swam behind his eyes when he blinked. "-I know you have to feel something, I know you well enough to know."

Thomas knew he shouldn't say anything at all. Anything he could think of to say would be the wrong answer. He couldn't say no, not just because it was untrue, but because he knew it would crush Jimmy, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. And he couldn't say yes, not just because it _was_ true, but because he couldn't very well feed into his delusions, if that's what they were. He wasn't doing him any favors either way. And he couldn't admit that he was terrified that Jimmy was right, because he'd had a bad dream, or because everything about Jimmy was familiar and comforting, or because he'd nearly jumped out of his skin when Jimmy had grabbed his wrist in the cemetery and said his name.

"This is the strangest thing." Thomas said, laughing at himself a bit.

"Too strange, I bet." Jimmy leaned away from him. "I'm sorry, I'll go." He said, his voice breaking.

Thomas caught hold of his arms and pulled him back. "No, don't." He ran his fingers through Jimmy's hair. "Stay, please. Let's go back to sleep."

But Jimmy didn't fall back to sleep for a long while. Thomas could tell, because he shivered despite the warmth of the blankets and his breaths came in short, sharp gasps for the better part of an hour. He wondered just how terrorized Jimmy was by whatever it was he saw when he slept. But then Thomas was opening his eyes, the grimy morning light filtering in through the curtain over his window, and Jimmy was pulling on his socks, sitting on the foot of the bed.

Jimmy gave him a brilliant smile when he noticed that Thomas had woken, his eyes creasing into half-moons. "Good morning." He whispered, despite the fact that they were alone.

"You okay?" Thomas reached out, grasping for one of Jimmy's hands sleepily.

Jimmy's expression softened, and he twined their fingers together. "Better than I've been in a long time." He looked troubled suddenly. "Are you?"

Thomas was unsettled, but he'd take the good with the bad if the good was Jimmy. "Yeah."

Jimmy didn't look convinced. "Even after everything I put you through yesterday?"

Thomas sat up and shrugged. "First dates are always a little rough." He said, and Jimmy laughed, shoving gently at his arm.

"I want to stay, but I've got class." He told Thomas, half-frowning. Thomas shivered, remembering his dreams suddenly.

"It's okay." He answered, trying to mask his discomfort. "I've got work anyways."

"When do you get out?" Jimmy asked.

"Eight." Thomas said.

Jimmy bit his lip, looking at the ground for a moment, before he glanced back up to Thomas. "I'll come visit you after work?" He asked, and Thomas felt his throat go tight, and a little shiver work it's way up his spine, Jimmy's words from his dream echoing in his mind.

"Sure, yes, of course." He said, following Jimmy to the door when he got up.

"I have to borrow these." Jimmy winced, pointing to the pair of Thomas's sweatpants he was wearing. "I need to- um- wash my pants." He flushed.

Thomas shook his head. "Just leave them here and I'll do it."

Jimmy leaned towards him, brushing his elbow on Thomas's arm. "Ah, very domestic."

Thomas wanted to press Jimmy against the door when he kissed him goodbye, but managed to keep his hands to himself for the most part.

"You're not going to start seeing anyone else, are you?" Jimmy asked. His tone was casual but his eyes were not.

"I'll try not to see anyone else between now and eight, but you never know what might happen on my fifteen minute break." Thomas said drily, and watched Jimmy's expression falter. "Stop it, you know I won't." He amended.

Jimmy kissed him again, his hand leaving Thomas's hair in disarray, and slipped out the front door, as quiet as mouse. Thomas locked the door behind him, and stood by the window until he saw Jimmy walking down the sidewalk, passing under a dogwood tree with orange leaves.


	3. The Six Of Cups

"It went sort of like this-" Jimmy said, his fingers tracing carefully over piano keys. The tempo and tune were strange and sullen, like a dirge almost. "Well, it had other instruments, you have to imagine."

Thomas was seated at the table in the servant's hall. He raised his eyebrows, his smirk covered by his teacup as he lifted it to his lips. "Really, now?" He asked, taking a sip.

Jimmy looked over his shoulder at Thomas, who was not in a state of complete dress, leaning against a pillow in his chair. His wit had returned, even if his body was not yet in working order.

"Yes." Jimmy nodded, turning back to the piano. "Let me see if I can remember some of the words..." Jimmy thought back through decades of memories, all ordered wrongly. "_The days are bright, and full of pain..._something something gentle rain?" He looked back at Thomas. "Ring any bells?"

Thomas laughed at him. "Oh yes, something something gentle rain, a current smash hit in the future."

Jimmy sighed and stood, pulling out the chair across from Thomas. They were alone after hours, as Mr. Carson had grudgingly accepted Thomas's request to be left downstairs. "I can't stare at the walls of my room any longer," he'd said, and with Jimmy's promise to help him upstairs later, Mr. Carson had finally relented and gone off to bed.

"_How_ can you not remember _anything_?" He asked Thomas, who was picking at a plate of toast and eggs Daisy had made at his request.

Thomas dropped his eyes to his food, grin still on his face. "Don't get me wrong, Jimmy." He lowered his voice. "I'm very flattered that you dreamed all about us growin' old-" Jimmy blushed. "But I think it's just that."

Jimmy's repeated attempts to jog Thomas's memory about their dreams had been fruitless, although Thomas had only been awake for a few days, now. He tapped his fingers on the table. "It's not just that. It was you and I, dreaming at the same time. You said so, yourself!"

"Yes, but it was the me in your dreams, wasn't it?" Thomas asked.

Jimmy frowned, grabbing the day's discarded newspaper from the other side of the table. "You were much nicer in our dreams." He said, flipping through the crinkled pages. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the look on Thomas's face fall before he fixed it into one of placid neutrality. Jimmy closed the newspaper, grabbing at his hand. "I don't mean that. I'm very glad."

Thomas shrugged. "I'm sorry. Hard to get used to everything." He waved a hand in the air. "I'm so sick of being poked and prodded and getting needles stuck in me."

Jimmy squeezed Thomas's hand before pulling his own arm back. Thomas's lack of memories put them in a strange spot. Jimmy felt like he was resuming a long-term relationship while Thomas was still struggling to wrap his mind around it. They hadn't discussed it much, yet. And Thomas's recovery was slow going, so far. Even eating a full meal was a challenge, after living so long on broth and not much else. He had other things on his mind, Jimmy understood.

"You're doing better, though?" Jimmy said, more because of his own thoughts than Thomas's words.

Thomas shrugged. "I guess anything would be better than comatose," he said drily. "At least I can stand for brief periods, now." His embarrassment was plain to Jimmy from the look on his face. He'd known that Thomas would feel that way once he'd woken up and realized what state he'd been seen and cared for in.

"I-" Jimmy bit his tongue. _I miss sleeping on your floor,_ he almost said. The next thought was _I miss you._ Strange how they saw each other much more now, yet it felt like so much less.

"What is it?" Thomas asked. Jimmy leaned across the table, making his voice a whisper. "I'm so very glad that you came out of it."

Thomas smiled reflexively.

Later, he leant his shoulder to Thomas for the trip upstairs. He was stronger each day, but when he'd first tried to walk, he'd fallen to his knees from the numbness in his legs. They were both winded by the time they reached Thomas's room, and Thomas settled on to his bed, wincing.

"I'm quite done with all this." He said, frowning at his legs.

Jimmy closed the door behind them and sat down on the bed next to him. Thomas's eyebrows shot up.

Jimmy put a bit of space between them. "I miss you." He said, voicing his earlier thoughts.

Thomas bumped his arm against Jimmy's. "I'm sorry."

Jimmy shook his head. "You haven't got anything to be sorry for. It's just- I remember so many things, so many-" He wanted to say years, but he stopped himself. "It must seem strange."

Thomas nodded. "It does, but I'm not complaining."

"Good." Jimmy nodded, looking around the room. "S'funny, feels weird to sleep in my own room now. I spent most of my free time in here, you know." He reached out to Thomas with his left hand, threading the fingers through Thomas's right. He still looked surprised whenever Jimmy touched him.

"I don't know what I did to deserve it." He answered.

"If you'd let me tell you about our dreams, then you _would _know." Jimmy said, leaning his shoulder against Thomas's. His body seemed to constantly yearn for physical contact with Thomas, even if it was only in the most reserved way. He felt Thomas shift, and knew his eyes were on him, studying him for any hint of a reason as to why his feelings had so suddenly changed. Only it wasn't sudden, and Jimmy would have to find a way to explain that to him.

Before, Thomas had been so loathe to leave his dreams, and now, Jimmy found himself longing for their return, if only so they could be as they were before. There had been no restrictions, no boundaries between them, and even though he had been the one to insist that it wasn't real, he recalled them as though they were. In a way he envied Thomas's uncluttered mind.

"Well, try me again, then." Thomas finally said.

Jimmy sighed, sitting up straight. "Alright."

He'd already told Thomas about finding the photograph in his dresser. Thomas had gone from complete embarrassment to utter disbelief, saying that he could have easily guessed that after rifling around in his belongings. Then, he'd described seeing Thomas's childhood home. Thomas had scoffed at that, waving off his description as wholly false. Disheartened, Jimmy stopped trying after that, and they had both been otherwise occupied.

"Well," He began slowly, trying to pick out a good point to start from. "I didn't realize it at first, that we were dreaming together- Don't make that face. But it was you who convinced me, you know? You kept telling me over and over that you couldn't wake up unless I remembered our dreams, I don't know why."

Thomas took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Jimmy could see the skepticism on his face.

"You begged me to believe it, Thomas, and I _did_, I made myself, and now you don't remember at all. It's the hardest thing-" Jimmy cut himself off before he let his emotions run away with him. Thomas was looking at him in alarm.

"Jimmy-" Thomas squeezed the hand he still held. "Losing time is- is _strange_, to say the least. I feel like I'm still asleep sometimes."

Jimmy gave up all pretense of chaste interaction, pulling his hand away from Thomas's and wrapping both arms around his shoulders. "But you _aren't_. And you're going to have to trust me when I tell you that I want the same thing as you, now." He pressed his lips against Thomas's cheek.

Thomas turned his face to Jimmy. He never seemed to be able to make eye contact. "I'll try." He said.

"Good." Jimmy answered, and leaned in to kiss Thomas on the mouth, cautiously, before resting his chin on Thomas's shoulder. "I should go."

Thomas watched him with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief as he got up to leave. He stood before Thomas for a moment, squeezing his shoulder. "I love you." He'd said it every night since Thomas had woken, right before he left for the night. Each night, Thomas had looked up at him, startled for a second, and then pleased.

Thomas smiled to himself. "I-I love you too." He answered, his voice going soft.

Then, Jimmy was alone in his own room. It felt cold and impersonal now. He felt like he was on the wrong side of the hallway. And when the sun rose in the morning, it hit him directly in the eyes.

Jimmy remembered a big bed with a brass frame in a room with gold-toned wallpaper. He remembered not sleeping alone; Thomas's comforting presence next to him. The warm radiator spilling heat into the room during the winter, the hush of snow quieting city streets. Thomas smiling over his shoulder as he combed his hair in the morning at the mirror over the dresser.

Jimmy sighed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He'd told Thomas he wanted to do things right, with everything in order, but he hadn't counted on it being so difficult. Not to mention that they didn't have much of a choice. Living in dreams was no longer even an option.

* * *

Thomas surprised the entire staff by turning up to lunch the next day unassisted. Half the table was up and fussing around him before he could even get to his seat. Jimmy shot him an apologetic look.

"No, Mrs. Hughes, I'm perfectly alright. Have to get back on my feet at some point, don't I?" Thomas said as he sat at the table, across and one seat over from Jimmy. He met Jimmy's eyes for a brief instant, smile touching the corners his lips.

Jimmy looked down at his food. He had no idea how to keep himself from being obvious when it came to Thomas now. A few extra moments of eye contact observed by the wrong person was enough to start a rumor. It didn't help matters that he'd spent a month barely leaving Thomas's side, but now that he was awake, things were expected to return to normal.

"James." Thomas said by way of greeting a few moments later. His voice was nonchalant.

"Mr. Barrow," Jimmy returned. "How are you feeling today?"

"Can't say as I feel amazing, but stronger everyday for sure. Not _much_ stronger." He thanked Anna, who had passed him a plate of buttered bread.

"Are you sure you're alright to be coming downstairs on your own?" He asked, and Thomas raised an eyebrow at him for an instant.

"Well I'm sure getting back _up_ the stairs will be a bit more taxing." Thomas answered. Jimmy nodded quickly at the unspoken question, then pretended to put his attention back on his meal. If they had been sitting next to one another, it would have been easier to carry on a conversation. As it was, they were practically talking to the whole table.

His mind drifted off to a small round table next to an arched window. Outside there was a sidewalk with a flowering tree where people walked their dogs and bicycled, where couples walked arm in arm, where they walked to the movie theater after Thomas locked the front door. He pushed the thought away.

Jimmy had a sudden idea. He left the table and returned with a newspaper, folded so Thomas couldn't see it, and started working on a crossword. "Hmm," he said after a few minutes. "King Tut's final resting place, six letters." He wondered aloud, glancing at the confused expressions from around the table. Even Jimmy himself did not know what or whom a King Tut was.

"Museum." Thomas answered, only looking up for a brief instant.

"Ah." Jimmy answered, watching confusion cross Thomas's face. "Yes, it wasn't pyramid, tomb, or mausoleum."

Thomas looked stricken for a moment, his eyes unfocused as if he was remembering something. Jimmy smiled to himself. _Good_.

"Who's King Tut?" Alfred asked, leaning across the table.

Jimmy shrugged. "Well, if you don't know what it is now, I'm sure you'll hear about it soon."

"Tutankhamun. It's a pharaoh-" Thomas began to answer, then cut himself off and reached a hand across the table. Jimmy hesitated, then passed the newspaper to him. He watched Thomas scan through the list of hints before his eyes narrowed and he passed the paper back to him.

Jimmy smirked at him.

"A pharaoh?" Alfred asked. "Never heard of him."

Jimmy had no way of knowing if anything about this King Tut would ever be true. It didn't matter, because even if they had only imagined him up, Thomas _had _remembered _something_.

Jimmy stayed at the table with Thomas when the room cleared out, having a bit of free time to himself before dinner. They weren't truely alone; Anna was mending something at the other end of the table, and Bates was reading a book across from her. People were in and out constantly, but Jimmy took the opportunity to move to the chair next to Thomas. He glanced at Thomas pointedly before returning his attention to the newspaper.

"So?" Jimmy asked, when he stayed silent for a moment.

"I don't know." Thomas answered, inhaling off his cigarette. He looked very distracted. "Say something else, then."

Jimmy thought for a moment, leaning back in his chair. "Hmm... is there a secret passageway in the cellar?"

Thomas smiled ruefully, shaking his head. "There are secret passageways all over the house, I'll-"

"And you'll have to show me sometime." Jimmy finished the thought. Thomas was gazing at him in either fascination or horror. "Maybe you'll think about believing me now?"

Thomas looked away from him, his jaw clenching in a way Jimmy assumed was from nerves. "I'll have to consider it."

"Well," Jimmy said, going back to his article. "I want you to consider it faster."

* * *

Thomas lingered downstairs until well after the servant's dinner was over. He even managed to get out into the fresh air of the courtyard a few times. Jimmy met him out there after he was finished eating.

"It's so strange, I missed the end of summer." Thomas gestured to the trees with their turning leaves. "Must've been a difficult time, what with Mr. Crawley's death and all."

It had been a shock, but Jimmy hadn't known him well enough to be truthfully concerned, especially not when his mind had been languishing on Thomas upstairs. He nodded. "It was very quiet." He said. "It's still somewhat quiet, for the family- you know, dinner and all. After a week or two everything went back to normal for us. Well, maybe not _normal_." He glanced up at Thomas. "But you know, back to business."

Thomas nodded, dropping the end of his cigarette into the dirt and stepping on it.

"It was a very stressful time for me, however." Jimmy said, raising his chin.

The ghost of a smile touched Thomas's face. "Oh?"

Jimmy nodded, affecting a serious expression. "I was having a lot of... _thoughts_, I guess." He looked around quickly- the courtyard was empty and still at this hour but he checked anyway, just to be safe- and then leaned towards Thomas. "I want so badly to be alone with you, for hours, or days."

Thomas's eyes snapped to him.

"I mean that. I really... I just- I want-" Jimmy could feel himself beginning to blush. "-_things_." He answered, feeling foolish suddenly. "I- I know you're not feeling well, yet-" He bit his own tongue to stop himself from finishing the sentence. "I'm not sure where I'm going with this." He lied.

Thomas's eyes had gone wide. He reached for another cigarette. "I don't feel so terrible today." He said, studying the cigarette in his hand. His expression changed suddenly, and he reached for Jimmy's arm with his free hand. "You have to understand, before you had these dreams, you never would have thought of this- Jimmy- I don't want to do something you're going to regret. Because I know you have these _ideas_-" He glanced around, paranoid, and lowered his voice to a bare whisper. "But you can't... life isn't easy for people like me, and it's even harder to keep something long-term hidden, and you haven't had a lot of time to think about it."

Jimmy covered Thomas's hand with his own. "I don't think you understand just how much I _have_ thought about this. I want to be with you."

"But-" Thomas dropped his hand, shaking his head. His voice sounded weary. "There are a lot of things you don't understand."

"But there are a lot of things _you_ don't understand." Jimmy repeated back to him. "It won't always be like this-" He jerked his head towards the house. "-but I'm not going to waste my life waiting."

Thomas studied his face, as though searching for something. Jimmy shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly nervous. "A year ago, if I had said one word-" He stopped himself, knowing full well the reasons why Thomas would be hesitant, and knowing they were also his fault.

Thomas's expression changed to one of concern. He reached out to Jimmy again, resting his hand lightly against his upper arm. "Don't look so upset."

Jimmy leaned towards him, wanting to press himself against Thomas, but keeping space between them. It wasn't the hardest place to be spotted, if someone was looking. All the lights were still on, and almost everyone was still awake. He longed for the freedom afforded by their dreams.

"Trust me. I feel _very strongly_ about this." He whispered to Thomas, fixing him with a serious stare. When Thomas stayed silent, he raised his eyebrows in question.

Thomas exhaled smoke. "Alright." He said finally.

"So you admit. Some of those things I said to you earlier- maybe they rang a bell?" Jimmy asked.

"Well.. I wouldn't say _that._" Thomas shrugged.

"What _would_ you call it, then?" He went on.

Thomas stubbed out his second cigarette. "I don't know. Maybe you're right."

"Maybe I'm right?" Jimmy said, more in the tone of an answer. "If you had any idea how stubborn you've been this whole time..." He shook his head at Thomas. "I _love_ you." He mouthed the words, barely even a whisper, and privately enjoyed the look on Thomas's face as they returned inside.

* * *

When he slept, Jimmy dreamed of them together. The stars pressed down low over their heads. Thomas had rolled the blanket out over wet grass. Jimmy dried his bare feet off on it as Thomas pointed out constellations he'd never heard of. "The Empress there-" He pointed to the sky with his cigarette. "The lovers, look, Jimmy, there- that's the six of cups."

Jimmy laughed at him. "You're making these up. What does a 'six of cups' look like?"

"Well," Thomas said, resting his jacket over a nearby headstone. He went on, talking like he was reading from the page of some book. "The six of cups- it stands for reunions, innocence, childhood memories. _But_, it's upside down."

"So?" Jimmy heard himself ask.

"_So_, now it means that you're stuck on something in the past. You're being '_unrealistic'._"

Jimmy laughed to himself. "Well _you're _being stubborn. Where's the constellation for that?"

"Over there." He pointed. "Wait- how am I being stubborn?" He asked, mock-indignant.

"Just are." Jimmy said, pushing his hair out of his eyes and tipping his head back , so he could see the opposite side of the horizon, upside-down. "You won't listen to me. I'm trying to tell you about all those dreams, and it's as though you don't believe me, even though I _know_ you know it's true."

Thomas took a drag off his never-ending cigarette. "Well, maybe I'm in shock." He sounded very magnanimous.

"Mmm." Jimmy hummed. "I guess that's understandable."

Thomas turned to him, grin on his face. "You _guess_?"

Jimmy grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling himself up and Thomas down. He pressed his mouth to Thomas's, shivering when Thomas's tongue ran across his bottom lip. Jimmy wound his hands around Thomas's back, pulling him closer. No amount of closeness would ever be enough. In his dreams, they were always so intangible- he wanted to grab the physical sensations and nail them to the ground.

"Thomas-" He dropped his head back down to the blanket. His voice was raspy in his own ears. "I can't take it anymore."

Thomas's head was crowned with stars. They were glowing far too brightly to be real. He laughed at Jimmy. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Can't we go home?" Jimmy asked. He wanted to pull the shades and crawl into bed.

Thomas shook his head. "I don't think so, not just yet."

* * *

Jimmy was woken by the sunlight from his window. He sat up, feeling a very strange sensation. Something familiar, only half remembered. He closed his eyes, trying to recall it. Thomas's voice and the stars. Was he dreaming of a dream or was he _dreaming_, again? He jumped out of bed, wrapping himself in his robe.

He walked across the hall very quietly. People would be up and about soon, but he checked on Thomas every morning, just to make sure he could still wake up. He slipped through the door without knocking. Thomas was asleep on his side. Whenever he saw Thomas sleeping now, he was never laying flat on his back. He'd come to associate that with meaning that he wasn't comatose; a small relief that washed over him before he crossed the room.

He shook him awake. Thomas leaned his head up, opening his eyes by the barest fraction. He'd been startled the first few mornings.

"You alright?" Thomas asked, touching Jimmy's cheek with his fingertips in half-sleep.

"Better now." Jimmy leaned into the touch. "Listen. I had a _dream_ last night. Do you remember it?"

"Wha-?" Thomas struggled to open his eyes. "S'mthin' about cards."

Jimmy frowned. "Cards?" He asked.

"_Tarot_ cards." Thomas said, shutting his eyes again against the light.

Jimmy leaned back on his heels. "The six of cups..."

"Mhmm." Thomas answered, almost asleep again.

"Wake up!" He whispered loudly. "Don't you see? We were dreaming together again!"

Thomas sat up, groggily. "What?"

"You were telling me about the six of cups. I was being unrealistic or something. We were lying on a blanket in a cemetery. You remember it, don't you?" Jimmy clutched at Thomas's sleeve.

Thomas stared at some point on the wall, like he had before, with the crossword the day before.

"I know you remember something." Jimmy insisted. His heart was hammering in his chest.

Thomas took a deep breath, opening his mouth like he meant to say something. His eyes moved from side to side, like he was reading a book. He swallowed, blinking. "Yes."

Jimmy let out a breath that he'd been holding. "I was halfway to thinking I'd gone mad."

Thomas still looked shocked, however. "No, I don't think you have."

Jimmy shook his arm with both hands. "Thomas-" He was too excited to even know what to say. "Don't you see, now?"

Thomas eyes focused on him, finally. "But... why is it happening?" He asked quietly.

"I haven't a clue. How are we supposed to know _that?_" Jimmy slid up to sit on the bed. Thomas glanced nervously at the closed door. "It doesn't matter." He said, both to the door and the question.

Thomas frowned, his brow creasing. "I don't remember _much_." That was more than enough for Jimmy. All the nervous energy he'd been carrying around flooded away from him in a moment. He slumped against Thomas, resting his forehead on the curve of his shoulder.

"It's better than _nothing._ Much better." Jimmy said, kissing the cloth of Thomas's shirt. "I'll go, don't worry."

Thomas grabbed his hand as he stood up. "It's not that I want you to." He said.

Jimmy laughed quietly. "I _know_ _that._"

* * *

Jimmy was very busy that day, with the house preparing for the arrival of dinner guests, and he only had the briefest moments of contact with Thomas at all. He managed to sit next to him at lunch, and tried not to lean towards him too much, but it seemed to be his natural inclination, now.

He imagined all the things he would show him in their dreams, now that Thomas remembered them. It was their own place, or it could be, somewhere they could be alone together without fear of discovery, and he wanted to use it to the best of his ability. He was going to have to teach himself how to _control_ it, force it to line up with reality, so that they could _use _it, like a real place. Thomas couldn't do it, at least he hadn't been able to when he was in his coma, and he doubted if Thomas would even want to try. But he'd had some minor success at lucid dreaming so far, and if he could _bring_ Thomas into it, it would be _theirs. _An escape, for now.

Thomas was managing to get up and down stairs on his own now. Jimmy overheard him discussing his return to work with Mr. Carson that night after dinner, though Mr. Carson seemed highly skeptical and told Thomas that he refused to make that decision until after Dr. Clarkson's next visit. Thomas didn't look overwhelmingly put out by it, however, and Jimmy wondered if he had been trying to measure how much time he had to recover, not actually trying to get back to work. He wanted to tell Thomas about how much leeway he suspected he would get, after the coma- when no one at all expected him to ever wake up- but he knew it would only serve to remind him that he had been helpless.

He only had a moment alone with Thomas at the end of the night, when he quietly crossed the hall to say goodnight. Thomas was sitting up reading, and he set the book aside when he saw Jimmy. His heart ached a bit to think of Thomas, alone in his small room each night, sleeping in his cold bed. He pushed the thought away- after all, he was going to have to face the same thing when he left- and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hello." He said, reaching a hand out to take Thomas's.

Thomas inclined his head to Jimmy, half-smiling. "Hello."

Jimmy felt overwhelmed at once, by the fact that they had to live these separate lives. The feelings were there, but it just wasn't enough. He wanted to sleep next to Thomas at night, and wake up next to him in the morning, and eat breakfast with him alone, where they could speak freely. Somewhere where they wouldn't be scrutinized for spending their free time together. Somewhere where no one at all would look twice when they saw them together. Somewhere where they didn't have to hide what they were to each other, not from strangers or anyone else. Not just another place, but another _time-_

"What's wrong?" Thomas asked, suddenly, reaching for Jimmy's arm with his free hand. Jimmy looked up at him, his heart sinking when he came back to himself. In his memories of the future, this time had never existed. Even in old age, they had kept to themselves, locked away from prying eyes and whispers. And even if it had gotten easier with time, they had been old by then, and unable to enjoy it properly.

"I've just realized-" Jimmy whispered, overcome with sadness. "-how terribly difficult life is."

Thomas looked alarmed. "What do you mean?"

Jimmy sighed, squeezing Thomas's hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it. "I'm beginning to understand what life is like for people like us."

Thomas sat forward at that, holding both of Jimmy's shoulders. He looked as though he didn't know what to say. He swallowed, shaking his head a little. "I would never expect you to choose that life for yourself. No one would want to."

Jimmy frowned, looking up at Thomas. "Stop it. I'm choosing you, and I won't take that back."

"But you could still have a normal life, Jimmy. It doesn't have to be like this for you." Thomas shook him a little. After everything, Jimmy was appalled that Thomas was trying to convince him otherwise _now_.

"What bloody good is a normal life if it would kill me to live it?" Jimmy whispered loudly, throwing up his hands and dislodging Thomas's grip on his shoulders. "_Stop_ that! I want your _support_, not for you to try to talk me out of it!"

Stunned, Thomas sat back. "I'm sorry." He said, sheepishly.

Jimmy looked away, his eyes studying the lit fireplace for a long moment. Thomas sat silently at his side. "At least we have the dreams," he mused, the thought giving him a small sense of comfort.

"Jimmy-" Thomas said, his voice edged with warning.

Jimmy turned back to face him. "And what's wrong with that? It's a gift, and we should _use_ it." He knew why Thomas was uneasy, even if Thomas himself didn't remember. He'd done his best to convince Thomas that it was dangerous to lose himself in the dreams, and at the time, he'd believed that. Now, he wasn't as sure.

"It just doesn't seem like a good idea." Thomas said, warily.

"Well, we can't stop ourselves from dreaming, whether or not it's a good idea." Jimmy said. "And besides, you only think that because I _told_ you it wasn't a good idea. But I've changed my mind."

Thomas's worried expression didn't change, so Jimmy leaned forward and kissed him, flicking his tongue between Thomas's parted lips. He tilted his head to the side and brought a hand up to run through Thomas's hair, trying to press himself closer still. When he rested his other hand against Thomas's chest, he could feel the quickening pace of his heartbeats under his palm. Thomas tried to push him away after a long moment, and Jimmy fought against his hands, craning his neck and pressing his lips more firmly against Thomas's.

Thomas broke away from him, resting his head back against the bed frame. He let out a few quick exhales before speaking. "We shouldn't."

Jimmy was about to protest, but he sighed and sat back instead, smoothing down the front of his nightshirt. The room felt over-warm. "I want to."

Thomas gave him a sympathetic look. "It's too conspicuous right now, we'll need to go somewhere." He looked to the side, his eyes unfocusing. "Maybe we can get away for a night. I have that- uh- _checkup _in London in a few weeks," he frowned in displeasure. "Maybe I can say I have to stay overnight. You know, doctor's orders."

"And I'm going with you?" Jimmy asked, finding that plan no less suspect than him simply sneaking into Thomas's room.

Thomas shook his head. "No, I'll just stop in town on the way back, then we'll have to think of something for you." He looked at Jimmy guiltily. "I really shouldn't be dragging you into something like this. It's not safe-"

Jimmy waved a hand at him. "I'll think of something," he said, but his anticipation was tempered with fear and a bit of resentment. Not at Thomas, but at the world. He thought of their dreams again, and tried to focus his mind on them, on _controlling_ them, on using them to get away from life for a while, if only to give them the time they deserved.

* * *

Before he went to sleep, Jimmy tried his best to concentrate on manipulating his dreams. When he finally _was_ asleep, the dreams twisted and warped themselves out of his control, pulling him away from the grassy patch under a star filled night and depositing him in some odd corridor. The walls were a yellowing sort of white, flaking patches all over the floor, and he stood before a metal door with the number 417 on it, the lights above him buzzing and flickering. His hand was hovering in the air like he had meant to knock, so he did.

He heard the sound of a bolt unlocking, and then the door swung open, revealing Thomas, who seemed to regard Jimmy as though he expected his arrival.

"Coming in, or what?" Thomas asked, half-smiling.

"Oh, yes, of course." Jimmy answered, slipping in passed him. Once he was in the room, he turned in a circle, studying everything. The arched window, the round table to one side of it, the bed next to the windowsill. Familiar, but lost among the countless other memories. He turned to face Thomas, who was wearing a curious expression. He looked strange to Jimmy, too young, like when he'd first shown him his childhood home.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asked, reaching out to lay a palm across his forehead.

"What?" Jimmy asked, leaning his head away from Thomas's hand.

Thomas's brow furrowed. "You're alright then? Did you take those new pills?"

"Pills? What pills?" Jimmy asked, confused. "What are you talking about? Why did you bring us here? I thought we were meeting in the cemetery again."

Thomas took a step back, his face suddenly pale. "You did?" He asked.

"Well I know I never said so, but I thought since it was where I found you last night, we'd just meet there again- where _are_ we?" He asked, spinning around to walk over to the window, peering out of it. "I do remember that tree, though." He said, pointing to the dogwood lining the sidewalk, half-bare with autumn leaves.

Thomas made no sound. Jimmy looked over his shoulder at him and laughed- Thomas was standing frozen, his eyes wide and his mouth open a bit.

"What _is_ it?" He asked.

Thomas took a quick step towards him. "Jimmy, I think we need to go see your doctor."

Jimmy was about to tell Thomas that he was _fine_ and could they please just get on with their dreams, but then he looked- _really_ looked at Thomas's face, registering the fear on it. "Where am I- _when_ am I? I don't remember this from before." He asked, and walked across the room, inspecting everything- familiar objects that were foreign and sleek in their newness- the stove, the faucet on the sink, the glass fronted cabinets, the white painted walls. He rounded on Thomas.

"You aren't sleeping at all, are you?" He asked, and if Thomas could have looked any more shocked, he probably would have. "You're not even _from _now, this is something else." The realization seemed to jolt something out of place for Jimmy, and began to lose his grip on reality, slipping away from his body. "No- wait-" He covered his eyes with a hand, fighting to stay in control. Thomas was at his side, and he realized- holding him up, and his vision blurred like he was going to pass out.

"Jimmy, _what's going on?!_" Thomas frantic voice was the last thing he heard before the blackness swallowed him up, and he opened his eyes to the cold walls of his bedroom.


	4. The Europa Hotel

Jimmy found himself anxiously circling the block near Thomas's job by seven. He'd gone to his classes, his appointment with his psychiatrist- which had gone as abysmally as usual, and then stopped by his apartment to exchange his books for a change of clothes. His hands began shaking the closer it got to eight and Thomas's departure from work. Jimmy was terrified, completely and utterly, by the idea that Thomas hadn't been real at all. He reminded himself of waking up in Thomas's apartment in the morning, his younger face- which Jimmy had never known before- he even tried to remind himself that the pants he'd been wearing earlier were, indeed, Thomas's and not his own. But sometimes, a small flicker of fear cut through his convictions- maybe he really _was_ crazy, maybe he was imagining everything. Maybe if he _took_ his medicine, instead of flushing his pills down the toilet, he would know for sure.

It was these sort of thoughts that sent him into the chain drugstore where Thomas had said he worked at ten minutes to eight. He hadn't actually told Thomas that he planned to meet him at work at all, and truthfully, he hadn't been planning to. Or at least, he had planned on trying to stay at his own apartment until Thomas returned home and felt that he wanted to call him. If he _did_ want to call him, after the day before.

Jimmy kept his head down as he walked inside. There was a part of him that contemplated walking up to the counter and asking for Thomas, but there was a larger, more anxious part that couldn't handle the confrontation, so he kept his eyes on his feet and wandered into the magazine aisle, weaving away from other customers. He picked up a random magazine and started flipping through it unseeingly, and only then did he allow his glance to dart around. He couldn't see anything but the aisle and both ends, and he dropped his gaze back the pages, his hands beginning to shake. _He's_ _not here, he's not here, he's not here,_ a malicious little part of his brain told him.

Then, just as startling as it had been the previous day, he heard Thomas's voice from somewhere out of his view.

"Well, I honestly have no idea-" His voice was coming from the next aisle over, and it dipped lower than Jimmy could hear sporadically, as though he was whispering to whoever it was he was talking to. "I mean, it could have been anything, but I'll tell you what Sarah and I think-" Jimmy could hear sound of a woman muttering something in return every once in a while. Thomas's voice returned. "-just like last time, when she went to bring the deposit to the bank and then the drawer was short 70 dollars- she blamed that on me too, even though it was in her pocket the whole time. And I never got an apology for that, you remember-"

Jimmy had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. The woman he was talking to said something that Jimmy couldn't catch, and then her voice picked up volume for a moment. "-obviously _I_ don't believe her, and that's what matters."

Thomas's voice returned. "Thanks. I know that, I just wanted to clear the air before I left. I mean, you and I both know how she is, and it's worrying that she could just be walking off with half the deposit and I could lose my job over it."

The woman laughed. "Oh, well I hardly call fifty dollars half the deposit, Thomas."

"Thanks, Trish, see ya Thursday." Thomas's voice came closer, and then he rounded the corner and stopped, coming face to face with Jimmy. Jimmy imagined that they must have looked funny, standing a few feet away from each other, both wearing identical expressions of guilty surprise. Jimmy felt a wave of nauseating paranoia- _he doesn't want you here, he didn't want to see you again-_

Thomas chuckled at him finally, though his cheeks were a touch red. "Details, Jimmy?" He asked, pointing at him.

"Details of what?" Jimmy asked,the question only serving to make him more nervous. Thomas pulled the magazine away from him and closed it, showing him the cover.

"Ah." Jimmy said, reading the front. "Details. Yeah. Well I just kind of grabbed the first thing I saw." Of course, the first thing he saw happened to have a half naked man on the cover. He cleared his throat and took the magazine from Thomas, shoving it back on the shelf. "I'm sorry, I feel like I'm stalking you."

"Well if this is stalking, I'm not sure why more people don't love it." Thomas grinned at him. He looked away suddenly, as if remembering something. "Hold on, I've got to clock out, and then we'll go." He turned and walked quickly to the back of the store, leaving Jimmy to stare at the magazines in embarrassment.

Thomas returned a few minutes later, devoid of his blue nametagged vest. Jimmy looked him over, unable to help himself- just to make sure he was really there, and took a step towards him, resting his head against Thomas's collarbone. He took a moment to compose himself, to remind himself that Thomas was here and that they'd finally found each other, and then he muttered, "Sorry," and tried to pull away. Thomas's arms caught him around his back.

"Where you going?" Thomas asked, holding on to him tighter. Jimmy eyes darted up and down the aisle.

"We shouldn't-" He whispered.

Thomas leaned away from him enough to see his face. "Shouldn't what? No one's gunna say anything."

Jimmy laughed at himself. "Right."

Thomas let go of him suddenly. "Well if it really bothers you-" he muttered.

"No, no." Jimmy grabbed Thomas's arm. "It's just- I don't know. People I don't know make me nervous, and what they might do-" He glanced up and down the aisle again. "It doesn't bother me, it makes me happy. I'm afraid of things someone else might do to us."

Thomas's expression changed from defensive to worried. "I doesn't matter if anyone says anything. They can't _do_ anything to us, and if they try, we'll call the police or something." He tugged on Jimmy's sleeve. "Come on, I want out of this place."

Thomas stopped in front of the counters on their way out, near one of his coworkers. She was a pale, thin woman nearish to their age with brown, curly hair, multiple facial piercings and several visible tattoos. She wore a good amount of makeup, in particular a bright red shade of lipstick, and there was absolutely nothing familiar about her, except for when Jimmy actually _looked_ at the expression on her face. She seemed to almost leer at him, in curiosity or malice, he couldn't be sure.

"_You_ must be _Jimmy_." A smile pulled at one corner of her mouth and an eyebrow lifted. Jimmy looked away from her, acutely uncomfortable, and noticed that Thomas was blushing.

"Ahh- Jimmy, this is Sarah." Thomas said, and Jimmy caught him glaring at her before he turned back, attempting to make a passable greeting.

"Hello." He nodded at her.

"Well I hope you know that he hasn't shut up about you all day." She went on, her smile broadening at Thomas's obvious discomfort. "He went on and on- 'Jimmy said this, and Jimmy did that, and he's got this bloody perfect smile'-" She crudely imitated Thomas's accent.

"_Shut _the _fuck up_!" He hissed, picking a pack up a pack of gum from off it's shelf and throwing it at her.

"Watch it!" She said, her face suddenly stern. Jimmy swallowed anxiously, looking back and forth between them. "First you get me put on designated tills and now you're throwing the merchandise."

"_I_ did _not_ get you put on designated tills, _that_ was Donna." Thomas grabbed Jimmy's wrist. "I'm taking him away from you before he goes running off into the night. You're the bloody devil, Sarah."

She laughed as they walked away, leaning over the counter. "Nice to meet you, Jimmy!"

Jimmy shivered once they were outside, zipping up his jacket. A few raindrops darkened the sidewalk as they walked. "She's terrifying," he said. He wanted to tell Thomas his fears about who she might have been, _before_, but even _he_ knew that sounded completely insane.

Thomas laughed. "She's not so bad once you get to know her." He looked over at Jimmy, smiling. Jimmy forgot about Sarah all at once. He couldn't help but feel a wash of hope from that smile- so full of promise, and filling his mind with thoughts of the future instead of the past. "Let's go get sushi. Unless you ate. Or you don't like sushi. We can get whatever you like." Thomas said, nudging Jimmy's arm with his elbow.

"I like sushi." Jimmy said. He normally didn't go out if he could help it, but Thomas was such a pleasant buffer against the world.

Jimmy couldn't help but watch Thomas everywhere they went. He watched the quirk of his eyebrows as they waited for the crosswalk light, how he shoved his hands in his coat pockets against the autumn chill, how his eyes flicked over to Jimmy and then away, embarrassed to be caught.

On the subway, he studied the backs of Thomas hands; long fingered and unblemished. Jimmy took one of his hands in his own, not to hold, but tracing over it instead, touching his knuckles and down to his wrist. He turned it over, palm up, and gasped. In the middle of his palm there was a small swirling scar, raised and white.

"What is that?" Jimmy asked, shocked. Thomas had been watching his face already, he knew, but his eyes widened and he looked down at his own palm.

"Cigarette burn. It's old." Thomas tried to pull his hand away, but Jimmy held fast.

"And self inflicted." He guessed, by the severity. Thomas didn't answer, but he did manage to pry his hand away and stuff it into his pocket. Jimmy frowned at him as the subway car lurched and screeched around a corner. "I'm not surprised. There's not a lot about you I don't already know, Thomas."

He rested his hand over Thomas's arm, covertly glancing at the people around them. It wasn't overly crowded, but he couldn't help but feel wary. He almost told Thomas _I love you_, but thought better of it. He didn't want to pressure him any more than he already had.

"Oh!" Jimmy said, pulling his laptop bag up off the floor. "I got you something, I just remembered."

"You don't have to get me anything." Thomas said, his voice serious.

"Well I did anyway. It's something you'll like, don't worry. Or something you need, anyway." Jimmy answered, pulling a small box out of his bag. "It's not wrapped or anything, don't look so upset." He said, handing it to Thomas.

"An electronic cigarette." Thomas said, flatly.

Jimmy pressed his lips together, feeling foolish. "Ah, well, I thought, I know you're trying to quit, and I just thought that maybe it would be easier this way. Because you get the nicotine, but not the smoke- but then there's the water vapor, because I know you have an oral fixation..." He trailed off, his face hot.

"Jimmy, these aren't cheap. I mean, this isn't the cheap kind." Thomas gave him an almost accusatory look.

"It's the rechargeable kind if that's what you mean. It was cheap enough. Anyway, look-" He pointed to the box. "It says the charge lasts for a week. I opened it already but that was just to charge it." He looked away nervously. This was something so new, he didn't know if Thomas would even want it.

"Jimmy." Thomas said quietly. "Thank you." He took the cigarette out of the box, inhaling experimentally. The tip glowed artificial orange.

"Is it any good?" Jimmy asked as Thomas exhaled a small, rapidly-dissolving cloud of vapor. He'd tested it himself and found the flavor odd, and the sensation not quite as satisfying as _real_ smoke, but it was better than nothing.

"It's perfect." Thomas said. "Our stop next."

Jimmy couldn't help but rest his head against Thomas's shoulder for a moment. "Where is this place you're taking us?" He asked, sitting up.

"It's called Sakimura." Thomas said, carefully tucking his cigarette into the breast pocket of his coat.

Jimmy followed Thomas into the restaurant, where they were seated in a dark corner at a narrow table. Jimmy put his back to the wall, grateful to be a few seats away from the nearest occupied seats; a table full of drunk college-age girls in dresses of varying neon colors.

"Is this okay?" Thomas's voice pulled his attention away from the room.

Jimmy nodded quickly, picking up his menu. "Yes." He answered, focusing on their small corner. "I'm getting sake."

Thomas laughed at him, covertly sneaking an inhale from his electronic cigarette. "Does it help?" He asked, slipping the cigarette back in his pocket before the waitress could see.

"Technically, you _can_ smoke that inside." Jimmy said.

"I'm sure you'd rather not have to sit by while I have that uncomfortable conversation with a woman who barely speaks english." Thomas looked at him pointedly. Jimmy struggled to keep himself from flushing.

"Am I that obvious?" Jimmy asked, scanning the restaurant and the table full of girls again quickly.

"It's alright, they won't do much to you. Except for maybe check you out." Thomas said, and picked up Jimmy's hand off the table, gripping his fingers lightly. Jimmy turned his head away from the room at the touch, just in time to catch Thomas flashing a wink and a grin at the table of girls, which erupted into loud whispers and giggling.

Jimmy swallowed nervously, dropping his eyes to the table. "Oh my god..." He groaned, but couldn't bring himself to unclasp their hands.

"Don't worry." Thomas said, pressing his fingertips into Jimmy's palm. "They think we're cute. Not- um, what is it you think? We're a perversion of nature?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes at Thomas. "_I _don't think it, but _other _people do. Used to. Still do, but used to, more."

Thomas smirked at him, taking another secret drag off his cigarette. "It's not like that anymore." He said.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes at Thomas. "Are you saying you believe me?"

Thomas feigned innocence. "Don't know what you mean." He said.

Thomas ordered them several strange and elaborate sushi rolls, all smothered in different colored swirls of sauce, and edamame. Jimmy sipped at his sake, finally relaxing when the buzzy warmth of the alcohol surrounded him. He leaned back in his chair with his tiny cup, sighing.

"Can I stay over tonight?" Jimmy asked, surprised somewhere behind the influence of the alcohol at his own boldness. Thomas's chopstick holding hand paused in midair, a spicy tuna roll hanging precariously from it. He went a bit red in the cheeks.

"If you want. You do have somewhere to live, right? Other than the cemetery, I hope." Thomas asked, though he did not sound put out. Jimmy felt a little uneasy in any case. He laughed nervously.

"I have an apartment, I just don't like it there. It seems..." He struggled for the words, waving his sake cup in the air. "I don't know, it feels haunted. Like someone's always watching me."

Thomas gave him a questioning look.

Jimmy scoffed at him. "No I _don't_ see ghosts if that's what you're asking." He sipped at his drink, contemplating. "No it's... it's in this old hotel. Well," he blushed, for some reason he could not name. "It's _mine_, the hotel- and I live there for free, obviously-"

Thomas sputtered, coughing on his water. "Wha- what?"

"Yeah..." Jimmy said slowly, looking away. "The Europa. It's weird. I inherited it when I turned eighteen. Some weird old cousin or something left it to me when they died." He looked up at Thomas's stunned face. "Of course, as soon as my _father_ found out, he had me declared mentally unsound. So I have a conservatorship, and I have to go through him for everything."

Thomas went from shocked to confused in a millisecond. "He _what?_"

Jimmy shrugged. "It's not so bad. I wouldn't know what to do with a hotel anyway. And it has this whole board of directors. Basically everything I never want to deal with. The only thing that makes me mad is that they keep trying to modernize it, but they want to destroy all this... historic architecture. They already renovated the top floors- that's where I live- the suites, you know?"

"Jimmy." Thomas said, setting his water glass down slowly. "You own the Europa hotel?" He asked, very carefully.

Jimmy swallowed. "Yeah."

Thomas put down his chopsticks. "You have to show me. We have to go there." He waved over the waitress.

Thomas paid with a fifty dollar bill. In spite of everything, Jimmy couldn't help but laugh. "I bet I know why your drawer was off at work." Jimmy teased, when they were back outside. Thomas looked over at him sharply.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, looking away, his eyes shifty as he led Jimmy back to the subway.

Jimmy tucked himself against Thomas's side, squeezing him into a half-hug as they walked. "Nothing. Should have let me pay. I own a hotel, after all."

"Well, you can get dinner from here on out, then." Thomas said, though Jimmy could hear teasing sarcasm in his voice.

They returned to the musty, dim corridors of the subway, and then back out again a quarter-hour later; the stairs up to street level depositing them across the street from the hotel. They paused outside, Thomas tilting his head up to the sky to study the exterior. The Europa was a narrow building in an obvious art deco style, with layers of decorative sharp-edged rectangles running upwards on the corners. It was only about twenty floors tall, but Jimmy knew that at one point, it had been considered groundbreaking.

"Come on." Jimmy laughed at Thomas, who was still staring, his electronic cigarette between two fingers, and tugged on his sleeve, leading him to the crosswalk.

"Good evening, Mr. Kent." The doorman said as he let them inside. Jimmy waved and smiled weakly at the man, whose name he'd never caught. Thomas's head swiveled around as they walked into the lobby, staring back at the doors.

"Oh my god, you weren't _kidding!_" Thomas hissed, sounding incredulous.

"You thought I was?" Jimmy asked, raising his eyebrows. Thomas looked away from him, turning in a very slow circle. The lobby itself was grand and ornate, with marble pillars and floors, plush red carpets running the length, gold accents on _everything_, and an enormous chandelier in the center, hanging low into the room. It had vaulted ceilings that multiplied the noise of the many people walking through; a din of lowered voices from the cafe down the hall and business calls and people checking in and phones ringing at the desk. It was beyond opulent.

"Wow..." Thomas said quietly.

Jimmy nodded towards the elevators. "Come on- I- um, it's pretty crowded."

They rode the elevator up to the sixteenth floor. Jimmy pressed his back into the corner opposite the door and kept his eyes fixed on the floor numbers, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone who stepped on. He only realized that his hands were shaking when Thomas reached over and grabbed one, his eyebrows furrowed.

When they were finally outside his door- which was unmarked- Jimmy took out his keycard and swiped it, leading Thomas inside. He switched on the lights, revealing the kitchen, which was sparse and glossy with white walls.

"Wow." Thomas said again. "This is... insane."

Jimmy threw his bag on the kitchen table. "It's ugly." He said, frowning at the room. "And it's too quiet in here. I don't like it."

"I don't mean _this._" Thomas pointed to the room with his cigarette. "I mean the whole thing. You. Owning this place. I mean, you _were_ just talking about rich British snobs yesterday." He raised his eyebrows, and Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"Well I grew _up_ poor. And I'm not a snob! Or British. At least, not anymore." Jimmy sighed. "Besides, I _told _you, I don't have anything to _do _with it. I have to get permission from my father just to buy clothes. It's ridiculous. I'm twenty-five and I own a hotel but I have an allowance."

Thomas stepped over to him, touching his palms to the sides of Jimmy's face. "It's okay." He said, his eyes locked with Jimmy's. Jimmy turned his head to the side, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. "I mean it." Thomas went on. "It's going to be okay."

"I'm fine." Jimmy said, tugging away from him, but feeling the loss of contact as acutely as if it were physical pain. He stepped forward, bringing himself against Thomas, and rested his forehead against the side of his face. "Don't go away." Thomas chuckled at him.

"You're rich and gorgeous, where am I going to go?" Thomas teased, running a hand through Jimmy's hair.

"I have schizoid personality disorder." Jimmy said. "Or worse."

"No." Thomas wrapped his arms around Jimmy back, crushing him into a hug. "I don't think you do."

Jimmy laughed mirthlessly. "Tell that to my shrink."

"But you _knew_ me, Jimmy. And I'm a real person." Thomas said, kissing the side of his head. Jimmy let out a breath, trying to calm himself.

"You'd better be real, Thomas." Jimmy said sternly as stepped back and broke the embrace.

"I think I'd remember it if I weren't." Thomas answered. "Well, show me around, then."

Jimmy showed Thomas the living room, the bathroom, and his bedroom. He'd lived in New York long enough to know that the kind of space he lived in was unheard of, but acknowledging just how much the hotel was worth gave him too much anxiety to think about. And it really _was_ a bland apartment, even if it was large. Jimmy didn't like the whitewashed feel of every room, the glossy-waxed wood floors, the overly tall ceilings. It even had its own furniture- all in shades of white and beige. He vastly preferred Thomas's apartment already.

Thomas, however, studied everything carefully, but said little. He lingered on odd corners of the room. He considered the views from the windows. He even took moment to stare at the crown moulding in the hall.

"What about that room?" Thomas asked eventually, pointing to a door at the end of the hall.

Jimmy glanced at the door and frowned. "Oh. Yeah. I don't like that room."

"Is it a whole 'nother bedroom? _Jesus, _Jimmy, this place is _huge_ already." Thomas answered. "What's wrong with it?"

Jimmy shrugged, and moved his feet reluctantly towards the end of the hall. "I don't know, this is the room that I feel- you know- that _watched_ feeling the most in." When Thomas joined him at the door, he turned the handle, slowly. Thomas stepped in first, switching on the light.

It was a large, rectangular room with three huge windows. The floor was covered in wall to wall white carpeting, and there was every conceivable piece of furniture you might need for a bedroom, including a somewhat feminine vanity and armchair. There were no personal items to be seen, however, and it made sense; Jimmy tried his best to never even _enter_ the room. He shivered, looking back into the relative safety of the hallway.

Thomas whistled, looking everything over. It was easily the largest room in the apartment, and Jimmy had intended for it to be his bedroom, before he'd really settled in.

Thomas had a peculiar look on his face when he turned back to Jimmy. "What is it?" He asked him, stepping further into the room.

"I don't know." Thomas said, pulling his cigarette out of his pocket. He left it in his mouth and walked over to a wall, running his fingers over it.

Jimmy laughed nervously. "What are you doing?" He stepped backwards, pressing his back into the wall and trying to keep himself from retreating into the hallway.

"Hmm... it sounds strange, but-" Thomas found a seam in the cream colored wallpaper, and nudged at it with his finger, folding it back. The electronic cigarette fell from Thomas's mouth, and he scrambled to pick it up.

Jimmy stepped over quickly, his pulse pounding in his ears. "What is it?" He asked, folding back the wallpaper so he could see what was underneath. Gold foil brocade caught the light. He gasped, stepping away quickly.

Thomas straightened up, holding on to his cigarette. They locked eyes for a long moment, both too dumbfounded to speak. Finally, Jimmy forced his lips to move, and said, "The gold wallpaper. This is the room with the- oh _god-_" He sat down on the bed, dizzily. "How- _how_ did you _know_?"

Thomas shook his head. "I didn't. I don't know."

Jimmy looked around the room, frantically reassessing it. He closed his eyes, trying to remember it from before, the way it had looked in his memories, but he was too startled to keep anything straight in his mind.

Thomas stepped over to the wall, peeling back the wallpaper again. "What if you saw this room before, and you just don't remember-"

"Are you saying I'm delusional? Because it was _you_ who was just trying to convince me that I'm _not_." Jimmy dropped his head into his hands, trying to calm himself. "Thomas- Thomas, that doesn't _matter_, how would _you_ have _guessed_? Because I- I didn't remember."

Jimmy didn't look up, but felt the bed dip when Thomas sat down next to him. Thomas put his arms around him a moment later, and then Jimmy _did_ look up, and realized that Thomas was maybe as shaken as he was from the look on his face.

"I'm sorry." Thomas said. "Not right of me to make you doubt your sanity just because I'm- uh- _scared_."

Jimmy shook his head and wound his arms around Thomas's back. "I've had a lifetime to deal with this, and it still scares _me._" He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaking breath. "This was our _room_, Thomas. This was our _home_."

Thomas didn't say anything back, but he held on to Jimmy a little tighter.

Jimmy pulled away from him, suddenly remembering something. "Wait." He said, and dashed into the kitchen, Thomas following after him.

"What is it?" Thomas asked, as Jimmy picked up the kitchen phone, dialing a three digit number.

He shook his head, fingers drumming nervously on the counter as he listened to the dial tone. "Something I should have thought of." He whispered, then at the sound of the phone picking up, "Hello? Is Mr. Shepard there?"

Jimmy was put on hold again. He glanced up at Thomas, waving a hand in the air. "There's storage somewhere. I don't know what's in there, but there might be _something-_"

A man's voice cut in. "Good evening, Mr. Kent, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, hello, um-" He glanced up at Thomas, trying to find the strength to speak. "I wondered- I wondered if someone might unlock the storage for me- for my apartment? I'm not sure where it is, but my father said it was somewhere in the building."

"Ah," Mr. Shepard said, and then there was a long pause. Thomas's eyebrows quirked in silent question. Jimmy shrugged.

"... Yes, Mr. Kent, I can send someone to unlock the storage room. It's on the twelfth floor, on the west side of the building, left of room 1206." Mr. Shepard finally went on, strangely hesitant. "Shall I leave a set of keys in your possession?"

"Oh, yes, absolutely." Jimmy nodded, though the man couldn't see him. "I'll be waiting by the door?"

"Yes, very good." Mr. Shepard hung up.

Jimmy put the phone down and grabbed Thomas's shoulders. "They're unlocking storage for us!" He jumped in the air a bit. "I mean, I wouldn't have cared, unless I knew that this was _our_ room, but this has _always_ been the owners' suite, that's what they said when I moved in..." Jimmy trailed off, another realization overtaking him.

"What is it?" Thomas asked again, eyes searching Jimmy's face.

"_Thomas-_" Jimmy said, breathily. He felt as though the air had left his lungs. "That means _we_ owned this place- that's how I got it, it was left to me, _somehow_, by _us_."

Thomas's expression barely changed. "You're in shock." Jimmy said, pushing lightly at the other man's chest.

Thomas nodded. "Probably. Yeah, I think I am."

"We don't have to go to the storage thing." Jimmy offered.

Thomas shook his head, his face blank. "No. Let's go."

A security guard met them on the twelfth floor, and left a sizeable ring of keys with Jimmy. Jimmy opened the door slowly and peered inside, trying to find a light switch. The room smelled dry and dusty, as though no one had opened the door in years. Which, he assumed, was a safe bet.

Running his hand along the wall, he finally found the switch, and the room lit up; it was filled with stacks of books, piles of trinkets, boxes and furniture, and more things that were crowded out of view. Thomas followed him in and closed the door behind them, locking it.

"Well." Jimmy said, carefully placing the keys in his pocket and resting his hands on his hips. He looked over his shoulder at Thomas. "There is a _lot_ of stuff in here." He tried to keep calm, but his curiosity was overwhelming, and his eyes moved around the room so quickly that he couldn't give himself a moment to recognize anything.

"You can say that again." Thomas mumbled, making tracks in the dust on an old, heavy wooden desk with his fingers. He pulled open a few drawers until he found a stack of letters. "Jimmy.." He said, gesturing for him to look. Jimmy peered at the letters as Thomas flipped through them. Each one of them read 'Jimmy Kent' or 'Thomas Barrow' and the Europa's address. The return addresses were companies or banks or sometimes names that seemed familiar- John Bates, Mary Crawley, Aaron Shepard, George Crawley, John _and_ Anna Bates-

"Wow." Jimmy said, and then his attention rested on a cluster of boxes labeled 'kitchen'. He pulled the top one open, digging through it for a few minutes while Thomas rifled through the desk. "Ah-" Jimmy made a noise of surprise at a flash of red, and pulled a tea kettle out of the bottom of the box. "Oh, the _kettle!_ Thomas, I've found it, I'm bringing this up, for sure-" But when he held the kettle up for Thomas to see, Thomas did not look, and Jimmy realized with a start that Thomas's eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"Oh-" He stepped over a rolled up rug and placed the kettle on the desk. "What _is_ it?"

Thomas didn't answer, but instead he held out a bunch of faded, yellowing old photographs. Jimmy gasped and took them with trembling hands. The one on top was of himself- well, _really_ it was _of_ another group of people, a man and a woman, in fancy dress, and to their left, two younger women, one light haired and one dark, dressed very nicely as well. But he was there too- off the side, standing in perfect posture, holding tray full of glasses.

"Oh my god." He said, and started to flip through the pictures. "Thomas! This one's of _you!_" He held stood shoulder to shoulder with Thomas, who swallowed and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve before looking. This picture was from much later; a thin, older, grey-haired Thomas leaned up against one of the marble pillars in the lobby, smoking. The next picture was of both of them, younger again, waving from the railing of a steamship. Then one of Thomas bundled in a heavy winter-wear, smiling at the camera, a huge, blurry mountain behind him, and pine trees all around.

"I remember this one!" Jimmy exclaimed. "I took this picture- we took a boat to Alaska!"

Thomas nodded slowly. "Those are pictures of us." He said, quietly.

"Yes..." Jimmy answered, and looked up at Thomas's face. His eyes were wide and red, and his face was blotchy as though he had been sobbing. "Okay," Jimmy said, and set the pictures down on the desk. "Now I _know_ you're in shock." He wrapped his arms around Thomas's neck and pulled his head down, touching their lips together gently. "Maybe we should go-"

Thomas shook his head. "I just need a minute." He kissed Jimmy again.

"It _is_ a lot to take in." Jimmy looked over Thomas's shoulder, at the room.

"Yes." Thomas said, and let out exhale, as though he were trying to calm himself. "Alright, yes, can we go? I'll- I'll come back later, I just need to think for a while."

Jimmy tried to keep himself from letting his anxiety take over. "You're not- I don't want you to leave me because of this." He said, collecting the letters and photos in a bundle, and the kettle. His hands were shaking.

"What?" Thomas asked, his face creased with worry. "No, Jimmy, I could never."

Jimmy swore that his heart stopped beating for a moment. "Oh." He answered, unable to come up with any other words, but he could feel an uncontrollable smile cross his face.

Thomas was very quiet as they returned to Jimmy's apartment on the sixteenth floor. Jimmy watched him on the elevator ride; his eyes moved almost unseeingly, as though he were mulling over a thousand thoughts at once. He smoked his electronic cigarette absently. Jimmy reached over to him with the hand that wasn't holding the kettle and pictures and letters, clasping his fingers around Thomas's wrist. Thomas stayed silent, but caught Jimmy's hand with his own and tugged him closer.

When they were back in the apartment, Jimmy barely had a moment to set everything he'd been carrying on the kitchen table before Thomas grabbed him by the shoulders. "Let's go to bed." He said, his voice raspy.

Jimmy felt a stab of anticipation, a sharp and sudden like fear, but warmer- that sent tingles up his spine. "But I thought we were going back to your place?" He asked, but he could feel warmth beginning to flood through his chest and limbs, and up his neck.

Thomas shook his head. "Let's stay here. I want to sleep in _there_." He pointed down the hall.

Jimmy forgot that he had hated that room for a moment, because the idea of laying down was rapidly becoming more and more enticing, especially when Thomas's hands found their way under his shirt, and his lips pressed kisses against his neck.

"Ah-" Jimmy said, his eyes fluttering shut. "Okay, I don't know- I _think_ I can sleep if you're- _mmm-_ here with me-"

"I'm not talking-" Thomas murmured, between kisses. "-about sleeping." He turned away and led Jimmy down the hall, by the hand.

"You _just said_ you wanted to sleep in here." Jimmy reminded him, half-heartedly, once they were in the bedroom. Thomas closed the door behind them and an instant later his hands were on Jimmy again, pulling Jimmy's shirt up over his head. The cool backs of his knuckles brushed over Jimmy's sides, and when Jimmy's shirt was somewhere on the floor, his warm palms retraced their path. Jimmy anchored himself with his own hands on Thomas's upper arms, his grasp on gravity tenuous, as Thomas's lips crushed against his. He barely registered that he was falling until his back hit the mattress, and Thomas crawled on top of him, his hands fumbling with the clasp on Jimmy's pants and then pulling them and his underwear off of him, joining his shirt on the floor.

"_Thomas_-" Jimmy whispered, his voice cracking. He'd forgotten what he'd meant to ask before the words had even reached his mouth. Waves of heat washed over him as Thomas's hands made tracks down his chest, followed by his lips. Each touch burned like mark upon his skin, tingling for a long moment even after Thomas had moved away. And then, Thomas's mouth was _around_ him, and Jimmy gasped, his hips jerking up in surprise. Thomas moved a hand to his stomach and pressed him down onto the bed.

"Ahh-" Jimmy bit his tongue, trying to use what little awareness he had left to keep himself calm. His breaths were coming and going rapidly. All thoughts were pushed from his mind by the feel of Thomas's lips and tongue on him, and the hands that restrained him; one low on his abdomen, the other on his inner thigh, fingertips tracing small circles on his skin. "Thomas..." he moaned, reaching out for him blindly, and finding Thomas's hand with one of his own, and his head with the other. Jimmy ran his fingers through Thomas's hair as his head moved up and down, trying to focus, trying not to let himself get lost in sensation.

Thomas made a noise of appreciation, and Jimmy _felt _it in his mouth. His hips were moving of their own accord, but he was trapped helplessly by Thomas's hands, the heat of his mouth overwhelming him. Jimmy was dimly aware of the wordless sounds he made, but he was past the point of caring.

"_Thomas-_" He said, his voice hoarse, "Please, _please-" _His skin was feverishly warm, his muscles tensing, his whole _body _trembling. His erection throbbed almost painfully- he could feel his own pulse against Thomas's tongue, he was so achingly aroused. Jimmy sobbed, curling towards Thomas, his fingers clutching in Thomas's hair, and he realized belatedly that he was _already_ coming; his body spasming and sparks flashing behind his closed eyelids.

He came back to himself slowly. He was shaking with exertion, and could feel tears on the sides of his face, cooling against his skin. "Thomas." He whispered, opening his eyes when he felt Thomas's weight settle above him, finally looking at him. Thomas leaned over him, his eyes glassy, his lips red and bruised looking, his face touched with color. "Oh _god_." Jimmy said, his face somehow growing impossibly warmer. "Did you- um-"

"Did I what?" Thomas asked, licking his lips.

"Oh my god." Jimmy covered his eyes with a hand turning his face away from Thomas. "You, um, _swallowed_?" He whispered, supremely embarrassed.

Thomas laughed. "Um... yeah. Does it bother you?"

"What?" Jimmy asked, still breathless. "Does it _not _bother _you?_ I can't talk about this." He hurried through the words.

"Well I _wouldn't_ with just _anyone_." Thomas said, pulling his shirt off over his head before laying on the bed next to Jimmy. Thomas reached out, brushing his fingertips across Jimmy's cheek. "I-" He paused, taking a shaky breath. "-love you." He finished, looking as nervous as Jimmy felt.

"You-" Jimmy sat up, feeling pinpricks of tears in his eyes. "You do? Already?"

"It's not exactly _already_, is it?" Thomas asked, solemnly.

"Thomas-" Jimmy said, the breath hitching in his throat for an instant. "You don't _have_ to, you can make up your own mind about it-"

"I _am_, Jimmy." Thomas cut him off, and reached out with both hands to pull him back on to the bed.

"I love you," Jimmy kissed him, disregarding where his mouth had been. "I love you, I love you..."

Jimmy wasn't brave enough to even consider trying what Thomas had done to him, opting instead to repeat what he had done the night before. Jimmy watched Thomas's face as he touched him- less bashfully than he had before, moving his hand boldly over Thomas's erection. Thomas held him crushingly close, whispering things against Jimmy's lips as he kissed them. It wasn't long before Thomas was moving jerkily against his hand, breathing rapidly, his eyes fluttering closed. He pressed his face into Jimmy's neck and moaned wordlessly, his body going rigid. Jimmy wrapped his free arm around Thomas's shoulders, kissing the side of Thomas's face as he came.

They laid together for a long time without moving or speaking. It was only when Jimmy began to shiver at the cool air in the room that he could bring himself to pull away from Thomas's embrace. He pulled back the covers, sliding under the down comforter and holding it open for Thomas. He caught sight of what looked like tears on Thomas's face as he laid back down, and remembered how overwhelmed he must have been by everything they'd seen that night.

"Are you okay?" He asked, sliding back over to Thomas, fitting himself against the other man.

When Thomas spoke, his voice was still shaking. "Yeah, I'll be okay."

Jimmy reached up, pushing Thomas's hair out of his eyes. "Let's go to sleep." He said, rubbing his fingers gently over Thomas's temple.

Thomas smiled wanly at him. "I thought you didn't want to sleep in here."

Jimmy lifted his head up, looking around the room. It didn't seem as bad when Thomas was in there with him. And if he squinted, the shapes were familiar- the placement of the windows, where the door was, even where they'd put the bed was familiar, if off by a few feet.

"I can do it if you stay really close to me all night." Jimmy said, getting up to turn off the lights. Thomas chuckled at him sleepily when he returned to the warmth of the bed, and pulled him close, his chest against Jimmy's back.

"This okay?" He asked, kissing a spot on the back of Jimmy's shoulder.

"Mhmm." Jimmy answered, already drifting off to sleep.

* * *

In dreams, they walked together in a field, under cloudy skies. Gradually, the gravestones fell away to open grass. Their hands brushed together as they walked. Jimmy looked up at Thomas, who was older than him now, and wearing a coat and hat.

"So," Jimmy said, nudging at Thomas's shoulder with his own. "We went to Alaska, did you know?"

Thomas looked surprised as he took a drag from his cigarette. "You seem rather sure of that." He said, quirking a half smile at Jimmy.

Jimmy frowned, confused. "Of course I'm sure, we found the pictures tonight."

"Mmm..." Thomas said, his eyes scanning the cloudy horizon. "You'd better be careful with that, Jimmy. Still feel like there's something not right in everything."

"What?" Jimmy asked. He tugged on Thomas arm to stop him from walking. "Careful with what?"

Thomas sat down in a red armchair, flicking ashes into the grass. Jimmy sat on the arm of it, seeing no other chairs in the field.

"I'm not sure. Careful with yourself." Thomas said. "I still feel winded, even though I know I'm not awake."

"You should rest, you've got a lot on your mind." Jimmy said. He took Thomas's hat away, revealing his neatly-combed hair. "Oh, this is no fun. I wish you had it loose." He said, tossing the hat into the grass.

"What? Hey!" Thomas reached out weakly after the hat, but didn't bother to get up from his seat. "Hmm, lets go inside." He said, and before Jimmy could stand up, they were in a room with low ceilings and a long table.

"Where _are_ we?" Jimmy asked, pulling out the chair next to Thomas and sitting down. Thomas offered him a cigarette and Jimmy waved it off. "No, no. I know I didn't tell you, but I'm quitting. I threw out my last pack on the way to my class this morning."

Thomas's eyes narrowed at him. "What are you going on about? We're downstairs, obviously."

"Yes." Jimmy nodded. "Okay. Downstairs. Listen, Thomas-" He leaned his elbow against the table. "I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. I know we have a lot of history, I mean _actual_ history, but this is your own life, and you don't have to do anything for _me_."

Thomas snorted at him, stubbing out his cigarette in a glass ashtray. "What are you _talking_ about, Jimmy? Since when has this ever been about _you_ pressuring _me_? Wouldn't you say it's been the other way around?"

Jimmy paused, his mouth falling open. "Thomas." He breathed. "We've gotten our wires crossed somehow."

"You can say that again." Thomas answered, lighting another cigarette. "I think this whole... _dreaming_ thing is dangerous, Jimmy. You can't- you can't just _hop_ around to moments in your life because you want to escape- trust me, I found that out the hard way."

Jimmy shook his head, his thoughts dissolving. "No, I'm not doing that anymore, I'm happy where I am, finally. I'm-" He covered his eyes with his hands. "I want to leave all this behind now. I want to have a good life. I can't let the past control me anymore."

Thomas rested his gloved hand on Jimmy's arm. "One step at a time, love."

Thomas felt the room going dim. "I'll see you in the morning." He said, pulling up Jimmy's hand and kissing the back of it.

"Yes, goodnight." Jimmy answered.

* * *

Thomas awoke too early, the light outside his windows still deep blue-gray. The fire had gone out and now the room was cold, and empty. He felt the residual touch of Jimmy's presence with him, in their strange shared dreams; a small, fading comfort as he wearily got out of bed to rekindle the fire.

His door creaked open before he'd gotten back into bed, and Jimmy slipped inside, his eyes bleary and his face drawn. Thomas stepped over to him, concerned.

"What's wrong?" Thomas asked.

Jimmy brightened, drawing himself up. "_Thomas_." He whispered. "I've seen the _future_."

A chill ran down the back of Thomas's neck, though he did not know why. He forced himself to laugh. "What, in your _dreams_?"

Jimmy nodded slowly, unblinking, and stepped closer to Thomas, grabbing his hands. "I was _there_, _we_ were _there_, together." He dropped Thomas's hands and touched Thomas's cheek, a strange, unfocused look in his eyes. "It was _real_, Thomas. I wasn't asleep."

Thomas shook his head, and reached out to shake Jimmy. "Stop this now. You _were_ asleep, you were just in your room."

"No, but I left." He waved a hand up through the air. "I don't know how, but I saw you there. What did you dream?" He asked.

Thomas closed his eyes, trying to remember the details. They'd been together in his dream, and it had not been any sort of future, and yet he _knew_ Jimmy had been with him, he could have sworn. "Nothing so strange. You see, you're remembering something wrong. We were in that cemetery, and then we were walking outside. Then downstairs, at the table. You were saying something... I don't remember..."

Jimmy shook his head, finally blinking. "No, I wasn't there. I remember perfectly. I was in some flat with you. A _different_ you."

"Jimmy." Thomas said, clasping his hands around Jimmy's face, forcing him to look at him. "Whatever you're doing, you have to _stop_. You're driving yourself mad!"

Jimmy laughed sleepily, his eyelids drooping. "I need to go back to bed for an hour or so." He said. He sounded normal again, normal enough that it almost made Thomas feel like forgetting what Jimmy had told him. He dropped his hands to his sides, and Jimmy lost his balance, leaning against him. Thomas held him up for a moment, staring at some point on the wall. He didn't know _why_, but something in the back of his mind whispered of danger. _This isn't right, this is wrong, he has to stop, _he thought.

Jimmy shook himself awake, leaning back on his heels. "Alright, I'm going." He said. He opened the door, and smiled wearily at Thomas before he walked out.

* * *

**Thanks for all the awesome comments/reviews so far- you guys are too nice! Stay tuned, chapter 5 should be done in the next few weeks!  
**


	5. Of Two Minds

Jimmy found Thomas in the courtyard after hours, when almost everyone had gone to bed, smoking in the chill autumn air. Thomas nodded at him in silent greeting, but Jimmy caught the worry around his eyes hidden in that glance. Jimmy was concerned with only two things- finding ways to be alone with Thomas and of course, his dreams. He'd tried to explain it to Thomas, how _sure _he was that he'd stepped into the future, but the more he explained it, the more frantic Thomas became to discount it.

Jimmy leaned next to Thomas against the wall, nudging him with his elbow. Seeing Thomas lifted his spirits for a moment, but then sent him through a wave of emotions; heartache, frustration, a sadness almost akin to grief. He could feel the space between them acutely- it was something that caused him real, physical pain. A weight across his chest that pressed the air out of his lungs. He sighed heavily, and Thomas turned to look at him, his brow furrowed.

"It's alright." Thomas said, as though he knew what was on Jimmy's mind already. Which, Jimmy presumed, was probably true. "I talked to Carson today. Told him I had to stay overnight at the hospital for 'observation'." He frowned lightly at Jimmy. "This is dangerous-"

"I don't care." Jimmy answered, his own voice flat to his ears. "I want to go."

"I thought you might say that." Thomas answered, blowing a cloud of smoke upwards, towards the stars. "Wait a few days, then ask him if you can have that night and the next morning off. Tell him you have to see- I don't know, family or something- your cousins?- and that you're leaving the evening before, and you'll be back before luncheon."

Despite his conviction, Jimmy felt a surge of anxiety. He knew that asking wouldn't be overly obvious, especially considering that Thomas had not returned to work yet, but he couldn't help but feel like Mr. Carson would be able to see right through the lie. "Alright. And what if he doesn't let me?"

Thomas shook his head. "We'll think of something else."

Jimmy covered his eyes with one of his hands. "I hate this." He said, and when he looked up, he caught a glimpse of a guilty look on Thomas's face. Thomas schooled his features into an expression of neutrality and stepped on the end of his cigarette. "_Stop_ it," Jimmy said, shaking his head. "I don't mean like _that_."

"You mean that you don't want to sneak around." Thomas said, lighting another cigarette. "But it _is_ criminal activity."

"It's no one's _business_." Jimmy said, and closed his eyes. "It wouldn't be like that, maybe, somewhere else."

Thomas hesitated, but then asked, "Some_where_ else?"

Jimmy frowned, and did not answer. Instead, he said, "I'm just frustrated." Thomas snorted a laugh, and Jimmy elbowed him. "That's _not _how I mean. Well- maybe a bit."

Thomas sighed and pushed away from the wall. He turned towards Jimmy, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "You're obsessed."

"I'm what? I'm _obsessed_? What _with?_" Jimmy asked, although he already knew what Thomas was going to say. "With the dreams." He said, answering his own question.

"_Well_..." Thomas paused. "Not _just_ that." He glanced around the courtyard- though there was no one in sight- before he took one of Jimmy's hands in both of his, squeezing it briefly. "We've barely got anything worked out yet, but you're so impatient."

Jimmy felt of rush of all those bad feelings he'd been having lately. Anguish and loneliness and a sense of time no one his age should ever know. He could feel decades between them. "I feel like I've been waiting forever." He said, and he meant it.

Thomas laughed, but the laugh had a worried edge to it that Jimmy heard more and more often. "Then just try to imagine how _I_ feel."

Jimmy headed back inside, with Thomas behind him, but something flickered- and then he was somewhere strange, where the light was too bright and the room was too quiet. His head spun dizzily, and he looked down at his bare feet and a white carpet. He rested his hand against the wall next to him. The noise of his fingers brushing against the wallpaper was loud enough to startle him, and he looked over, seeing a ripped seam in the paper, and the old layer of gold underneath.

"Jimmy?" Thomas's voice spoke from behind him, soft and close in the stillness of the room. Thomas's hands rested on his shoulders, as though holding him up. "Are you okay?" He asked, and Jimmy was turning his head when he realized he was still in the hallway, and Thomas was closing the door behind them, his eyes wide and his lips parted as if in silent question.

"What's wrong?" He whispered, in such contrast to the way his voice had sounded a moment before that Jimmy blinked. It was as though what he'd seen had never happened at all.

"Nothing." Jimmy shook his head.

"Not _nothing_." Thomas came over to him, leaning in to whisper, more in alarm than the need to be quiet. "You just asked me where you _were._" His eyes bored into Jimmy's, like they were extracting the answer from somewhere inside his brain.

"Oh." Jimmy shrugged, affecting nonchalance. "I must be tired."

"I'm _sure._" Thomas snapped, sounding as though he were somewhere between fear and anger.

Jimmy was about to speak when he heard the sound of footsteps behind them, and he whipped around as Thomas stepped away from him, quickly putting distance between them. O'Brien stood in the doorway to the servants hall, regarding them without a hint of emotion on her face. The three of them stood for several seconds, unmoving. Then O'Brien nodded tightly at them, and crossed the hallway, heading upstairs.

Thomas let out a shaky exhale only after she was out of earshot. Jimmy shot him a look over his shoulder. "There's no _way_ she could have heard us, Thomas, we were very quiet-"

"You weren't quiet _before._ You weren't being quiet when you asked me _where_ you _were_, Jimmy." Thomas said, his voice trembling.

"Well, I don't remember that." Jimmy said, but his words only managed to make Thomas's eyes widen even more. "What can she _say_, anyway?" Jimmy dropped his voice to a whisper again. "That we were _talking_?"

Thomas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I'm sure that's more than enough for her to come up with something."

"She _won't_," Jimmy answered, insistent. "Not after the coma."

"You don't know her like I do." Thomas glanced at the stairwell, as though he would see her standing and listening from the landing.

"I know her well enough, I think." Jimmy said, pointedly- but as they made their way upstairs, he let his mind wander to the room with the gold wallpaper, somewhere so far ahead that they were young again, and the walls had been long recovered.

* * *

Thomas was still worn by the afternoons- though each day he was stronger, and could stand for longer. He was still groggy as well, as though casting off the last vestiges of sleep- but it was getting easier over time. Even so, he climbed the stairs in the middle of the day, alone now, or with Jimmy when he had the time, and sat in his room, his head spinning.

Today was no different, and when he was in his armchair in the corner, he lit a cigarette and thought of Jimmy- where his mind always was, already. Jimmy loving him, inexplicably. Jimmy and his dreams. His worry was beginning to overtake his happiness. He didn't want to think about the dreams when he was awake, and start wondering _why _and _how_- but Jimmy was so fixated on them now that he couldn't help but think of it when he was alone and undistracted. He'd begun to find himself longing for the day when he was strong enough to return to work.

Thomas knew he should be elated- and he _was_ when let himself feel, finally, the depth of emotion that Jimmy held for him, when he gave himself a moment to believe in it. But he understood Jimmy's frustration, that their relationship, in all it's newness, hadn't had a moment to breathe. When he thought of that, and all the secrecy it had to exist in, Thomas didn't know how long they'd have to linger that way. He replayed it in his mind a thousand times- the months they would wait to be together, sneaking odd moments just to speak to one another, and then finally, after everything, getting caught out for it when they became too obvious- which would only be a matter of time. Or, being so careful that they really never had anything at all.

As upsetting as those thoughts were, they paled in comparison with Jimmy's behavior as of late. Believing that he'd seen the future, and then, the night before, when he hadn't remembered where he was- and his voice had been odd too, with the inflections in all the wrong spots. Thomas felt cold all over thinking about it again, as he absently flicked ash from the end of his cigarette. The matter of O'Brien overhearing them was worrying as well, but he couldn't think about it for long without remembering the blank, confused look on Jimmy's face as he turned around, bewildered.

He didn't know how long he'd sat with his thoughts when Jimmy appeared in his open doorway, his face red and his eyes wild. He closed to door quickly behind him, taking care not to let it slam.

"What is it?" Thomas asked, sitting forward in his seat.

"I _can't-_" Jimmy began, and then stopped, his face twisting in an expression of pain, before he covered his eyes with his hands. Thomas stood quickly, trying to ignore the spots that danced in front of his eyes.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Thomas asked him, cautiously touching Jimmy's shoulders.

Jimmy threw his hands down, curled into fists, and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I can't- I can't _go_, _Alfred's_ already got that day off-" His voice broke.

"What for?" Thomas asked, sharply, trying to formulate a way to rearrange the scheduling. Too much manipulation on his end would seem rather suspect.

"His _grandmother_ is _ill._" Jimmy answered, squeezing his eyes shut. "They're moving her into some- some relative's house or something- _that day_. Of course."

"Ah." Thomas frowned. "Well, not much we can do about it, then." Jimmy's brow furrowed and he stepped closer to Thomas, resting against him just a bit, as though he were trying not to wrinkle his livery.

"Well," Thomas went on. "Some other time then. Mr. Carson already knows you want the time off- what did you say, anyway?" Thomas chose to ignore the fact that Jimmy had only waited one day to ask for time off instead of the few that he'd had advised- not that it mattered now. He had to hope that Mr. Carson would never suspect that there was anything between them.

Jimmy stepped away from him and sat in his desk chair. "I said I had a cousin stopping by in Ripon." His voice sounded tired, and he sighed, watching Thomas as he sat in his armchair again. Jimmy stood and brought the desk chair closer. Once he had sat back down, he reached a hand out to Thomas, resting his fingers on the back of Thomas's glove. "I can't _do_ this, not now that I know what I'm missing."

Thomas studied Jimmy's face, seeing the pain and frustration etched across it, and knew what he felt- _almost_- but he'd had more time to think about it. Jimmy was still dealing with the beginnings of it. But there was something else to it, something Jimmy had imagined- or _saw_- in their dreams that Thomas could not quite recall- and it was something that was torturing him. An imagined future where the world was as it would never be.

"It's alright." Thomas turned his hand around, clasping Jimmy's fingers. "You're worrying about this too much."

"No. I'm not." Jimmy shook his head. "I want to go tonight, Thomas. After everyone's asleep. Let's just- we'll just walk out and go into the village-"

Thomas laughed at him. "Are you _mad_, Jimmy? You want to _sneak out? _I thought you were trying to have us not get caught."

"Just for a few hours!" Jimmy insisted. His eyes were wide and unblinking again, and Thomas knew that he'd gotten ahold of an idea that he wouldn't let go of easily. "We'll come back before anyone gets up!"

Thomas shook his head. "This is a _bad idea_." He warned.

"Then I'm coming in here tonight." Jimmy said, raising his eyebrows in question.

Thomas sighed and pulled his hand away from Jimmy's, raising it to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache forming. "We can't just walk in and get a room and then leave a few hours later, Jimmy. And not in the village when people _know_ what we look like, and _know_ where we work."

Jimmy flushed at his words, dropping his gaze to the hands in his lap. He stood up suddenly, and turned wordlessly to leave.

"Jimmy, stop it, wait..." Thomas looked up at the ceiling, regretting the words before they left his mouth. "I'll go and get us a room, and come back later. That way we'll have the key already." He rolled his eyes at himself for even entertaining Jimmy's plan, but he truthfully couldn't see any way around it. One way or another, they'd be taking senseless risks. Better somewhere else, where they could at least come up with some sort of plausible lie. _We'll say we went for a walk. _He grimaced at the thought of using such a shoddy explanation, though it wasn't exactly a lie.

_It's worth it,_ he thought, as Jimmy turned back to face him. Jimmy crossed the room and rested his hands on the arms of Thomas's chair, leaning down to kiss him, pressing their mouths together with the force of his momentum.

Jimmy turned to leave after that, laughing breathlessly. "Thank you, I love you." He whispered to Thomas before he left.

* * *

The sunlight eventually woke Jimmy, though not early, for once. He'd slept through the night- and for the first time in years, he hadn't been woken by nightmares. He knew _why_ before he even opened his eyes- from the feel of Thomas's steady breathing under his cheek, and the arms that held him close.

He sat up, still groggy, and found Thomas already awake, watching him with half-open eyes. "What time is it?" Jimmy asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Eleven thirty." Thomas answered, bringing his electronic cigarette up to his lips.

"Oh, _shit-_" Jimmy made to jump out of bed, but then he stopped, narrowing his eyes. "Do you work today?"

Thomas grinned and shook his head 'no'.

"Well." Jimmy settled back against the pillows. "I've been in college for six years, I can skip a day."

"Not to mention you own a hotel." Thomas said, waving his hand and cigarette around in the air. "That's bad advice, you should probably go to class."

"I've had enough, to be honest. And you're right. And besides, I've never kept a major for more than a year." Jimmy pulled the blankets back over his shoulders, settling against Thomas and his warmth.

Jimmy had never felt as content before. Even his fondest memories of the past seemed hollow by comparison. "I love you." He said, quietly, remembering how Thomas had said it to him the night before. Thinking about it again reminded him of other things that had happened the night before, and he felt his face grow warm.

Thomas squeezed him and kissed the top of his head. "I love you, Jimmy." He returned.

Eventually, Jimmy found the strength to pull himself out of bed, and he picked up his shirt and pants off the floor and pulled them on, dislodging the storage room keyring from his pocket. He bent to pick it up, and his vision went blurry for a moment after standing.

"Thomas?" Jimmy asked. The bright morning light of the bedroom became low lights in a dark corridor. "Where _am _I?" He turned in a circle, finding Thomas behind him. He was wearing a heavy wool coat and paused in a doorway, half in and half outside. He looked stricken.

"Jimmy?" He asked, and Jimmy turned, feeling Thomas's hands on his shoulders. Thomas stood behind him, holding him up, and the room was bright once more. "Are you okay?

"Sorry." Jimmy laughed, pushing himself away from the wall, where his hand had landed. "I'm just lightheaded. I think I stood up too fast."

Thomas slipped his hands around Jimmy's front, pulling him back against his chest. "Careful." He said, lightly, kissing Jimmy's neck.

"Mmm- maybe you'd like to get out of bed sometime today?" Jimmy asked, leaning into him.

"We're out of bed now." Thomas teased, but he let Jimmy go a moment later.

Jimmy stepped away and brought his hand up, remembering the keyring he'd picked up off the floor- and held it up in the light. "Hmm, I wonder what all these other keys are for?" He said, touching them one by one. Most were hotel keys, by their shape and size, but some were older or smaller or made of brass. One had a small stamped tag attached, and he turned it around in his fingers to read it.

"The National City Bank of New York..." Jimmy said aloud as he squinted to read tiny words. "Box 42709-" He closed his eyes for a moment, combing through his memories, imagining a small metal box filled with papers and photographs. In his memories, Thomas raised his eyebrows at Jimmy as he closed it, laughing, a cigarette balanced between his lips. _'I still can't believe it.' _he was saying-

"Safe deposit box?" Thomas asked, looking at him curiously.

Jimmy nodded once. "I think so. We should go, there might be something important."

Thomas nodded back, his eyes unfocused. "Okay."

Jimmy bit his lip- as anxious as he was to go pick through storage, or some old deposit box- as much as he wanted to sift through their past, and uncover all the proof of their former existence- he didn't want to push Thomas any further. He put the keys back in his pocket and reached up to hold Thomas's hair back from his eyes. "We can do that some other time."

Thomas shook his head. "There's important stuff in there, right?"

Jimmy shrugged. "I don't remember exactly, but you would think so, yes?"

Thomas shrugged back. "Well, I think we should find out."

Jimmy dropped his hand away from Thomas's face, running his fingertips over Thomas collarbone as he went, and then he rested his head against that spot. "Okay. If you're sure." He said, his voice muffled against Thomas's shoulder.

He could feel Thomas nodding. "Yes. But I'm showering first." He stepped away from Jimmy and jerked his head towards the bathroom door. "Come with me?" He asked.

Jimmy flushed, feeling a little nervous bolt of anxiety alongside a flutter of anticipation. Thomas paused, watching him. After a beat, Jimmy nodded. "Okay." He said, exhaling nervously.

"Jimmy, you don't have to do anything you don't want to-" Thomas began.

Jimmy cut him off. "I'm _not_, I'm just _nervous._"

Thomas rolled his eyes, only lightly mocking. "I should have guessed that." Jimmy shoved at his arm, but followed him into the bathroom, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart.

_After last night, this should be nothing, _Jimmy told himself, _and you slept naked next to him all night- _Jimmy let his eyes wander over Thomas, who was still quite undressed as he turned on the shower, and flushed again, pulling off his shirt.

But Thomas really had wanted his company- which was sweet- and Jimmy found himself wondering at this new Thomas as they stood under the spray of the water. Thomas grabbed at him, his hands slippery with soap, and shampooed Jimmy's hair for him, and teasingly fought him for the water. He was so unreserved, so unmarked by prejudices from their last life in a way that Jimmy wasn't, because of his memories. Not completely unfettered- Jimmy recalled the cigarette burn on his hand, and made a mental note to ask Thomas about it, sometime soon- but so much less cynical, at least at first glance. Certainly less secretive. Better adjusted. Jimmy only wished he could say the same for himself.

By the time they had breakfast- bagels from a bakery on the way to the bank that Thomas had suggested- Jimmy found himself consciously rearranging his priorities. No more lingering on the past, well, maybe a bit more, he _did _want to go through all their things. But no more wallowing. No more questioning his sanity. He was going to be happy and live a good life with Thomas, he was _sure_ of it, now. He had to move forward, and there was nothing standing in his way, anymore. And even when the dreams came, and then, the nightmares- he would do his best to put it behind him and accept the past, but move on from it.

Once they were in the National City Bank, an old fear gripped him as he waited in line for a teller. His palms went clammy as they clutched his information; his birth certificate, social security card, ID, and the key- everything he hoped he'd need to open the box, provided that they'd thought of that in the past. Thomas must have noticed his trepidation and rested a hand on Jimmy's back, and Jimmy winced at himself for his anxiety.

_Please let them let us open this box,_ he thought, and, _Oh God don't make me have to talk to anyone_- thought of course he knew he had to, and he couldn't very well make Thomas do it. Unless perhaps they'd left the key to Thomas somehow, but then Jimmy should have known where to find him in the future-

And then Thomas was nudging him gently at the counter, and he took a deep breath and stepped forward, laying his papers and the key out in front of the teller. Thomas leaned an elbow against the counter, lending Jimmy his silent support."I- um-" He spoke, not looking the woman in the eyes. "I'd like to open this box, it belonged to a family member..." She took the key wordlessly and studied the tag for a moment before typing at her computer.

"Ah, yes." She said, after a moment, and began to scan over his papers and ID. "This is a very old box. It was issued in... hm, let's see, it was issued on November 15th, 1929. Only opened once in the past thirty years."

_Opened once in the past 30 years-_ "What? Opened, by who?" Jimmy leaned forward, suddenly alarmed.

"Gerald Kent, eight years ago next January." She said, still sifting through his papers.

Jimmy stepped back, and for a moment he could hear nothing but the rushing of blood in his ears. He looked over to Thomas, who was studying him, concerned. Jimmy was suddenly assaulted by a different anxiety- his _father_ had been here first, and he had looked through his things and never _told_ him- his _father_ who had his own inheritance taken from him- and _who knew_ what documents or photographs or artifacts from Jimmy's life before he'd taken with him. His father who insisted that Jimmy had been delusional his whole life, had had proof otherwise for _eight years_.

"That's my dad." Jimmy managed to choke out, and Thomas's expression flashed from concerned to startled. The teller pushed her chair back from her desk and waved at them to follow her.

"Right this way, please." She said, and Jimmy had to shake himself out of his thoughts just to walk, reaching a hand over to Thomas to steady himself.

"Your father knows about this?" Thomas whispered loudly to him.

"Maybe there's nothing in there." Jimmy answered, still panicked- and conflicted. There had to be something worthwhile in the deposit box, there _had _to be- but maybe there weren't any pictures, or there wasn't anything conclusive. Or maybe there _had_ been, but they'd all been _removed_.

They followed the woman to a large room with a security guard, where she instructed them to wait, standing at a high marble table, the key firmly in Jimmy's hand. He glanced over at Thomas, who had taken out his electronic cigarette, and felt a sudden, terrible longing for nicotine.

"Give me that?" He asked, and when Thomas handed it to him, he took a deep inhale of vapor. He was still put off by the taste, but it took the edge off.

A man in a suit with a name tag appeared a short while later with a worn, old metal box, and placed it on the table before them. Jimmy's pulse fluttered wildly for a moment as he studied the box, with it's rusted corners and peeling paint. The number 42709 was stamped into the front, and under that were two locks, one for his key and one for the bank's. He glanced up at Thomas, who was rocking back and forth a bit on the balls of his feet.

The man produced another old, brass key and unlocked one side, instructing Jimmy to do the same with the other lock. His hands shook and he rested the palm of the right one on the table as he unlocked the box, and the man stepped away, to wait at the wall near the security guard.

"Thomas-" Jimmy said, looking over to him again before he lifted the lid. He didn't know what he had meant to say, but Thomas bumped shoulders with him.

"Go on, then." Thomas said, waving his hand at the deposit box.

Jimmy took a deep breath, steeling himself, and then lifted the hinged lid of the box, letting it rest on the table.

At first glace, the contents were mostly neat stacks of papers. There was a small bundle of newspaper clippings with a yellowing but unopened letter on top, and Jimmy, with his hands still shaking, removed the letter and set it on the table.

"May I?" Thomas asked, reaching out a questioning hand to the stacks of papers.

Jimmy laughed once at him, feeling breathless. "Of course, it's as much yours as it is mine." Thomas laughed a bit nervously in return and picked up the stack of papers, setting it out on the table. That left only a small leather pouch in the box, and Jimmy picked it up by impulse, feeling as though something special but just out of reach of memory was inside.

Jimmy pulled out the first thing that his fingers touched; a long, thick gold chain that ended in a pocket watch. It flashed in the light and Jimmy was caught up in a memory, suddenly- of himself standing in an old shop in Manhattan, of the watch spinning in the air in front of him, the black enamel clock face catching the sunlight pouring in through the windows. It had cost a fortune but he paid it gladly. _'If you don't mind me sayin', you look like you can afford it-' _the man had said, pointing at Jimmy's suit as he boxed up the watch.

Jimmy looked over to Thomas, who had abandoned the papers on the table and was watching the watch swing in the air like a man who was hypnotized. Jimmy laughed at him, but felt the sting of tears behind his eyes, and he blinked, forcing them away. "It's yours," he said, grabbing Thomas's hand and coiling the watch and chain in it. Forgetting the security guard and banker at the wall, Jimmy leaned over and kissed Thomas on the corner of his mouth. Thomas started, finally, and brought his hand and the watch up to the light.

Jimmy turned back to the pouch, tipping the rest of the contents into his hand. Two gold rings rested in his palm, and he stared at them for a moment, uncomprehending. "Oh-" He said, embarrassed, half-turning away from Thomas. "Yeah, these." He said, and Thomas peered over. Jimmy held out his hand reluctantly.

"We-" Thomas's brow furrowed. "I mean we obviously _didn't_, but..." He trailed off, his hands clutching at his watch still.

"Yeah, no, we wore these. I mean-" Jimmy could feel his his face going hot. "-after we were together for a while, a long time, actually, we started wearing them, you know? Because we didn't really tell people but they, uh- they got the message, usually." Jimmy couldn't look up at Thomas. He took the ring that had been his and put in on, feeling the small weight of it settle into the spot as though it had been missing from his hand the whole time. It was a bit more scuffed than Thomas's, considering that he was left handed, and the bottom of it was flattened out a bit from resting his hand on piano keys, or on desks while writing for so many years.

Jimmy placed Thomas's ring on the table in front of him. "I- um, you should have it. I mean- this is yours too. You don't have to wear it or anything." Thomas picked it up and studied it with the watch, and Jimmy, still embarrassed, turned his attention to the old envelope on the table.

The envelope had no address, but was signed simply 'Jimmy Kent' in his own hand. "If my father really went through this, he must have seen this letter- and it has my name on it." He wondered aloud.

Thomas, who was now sifting through the newspaper clippings and photographs, shrugged. "Maybe he thought it was the- uh- _other_ you." He raised an eyebrow at Jimmy. "But if these pictures are anything to go by, I don't see how he doesn't _know_."

Jimmy looked at the photos briefly, but he was too anxious about the letter to take the time to really look, and made a note to bring them home for later. He ripped the envelope open instead, and pulled out the letter inside.

_To myself_, it began, and Jimmy felt a rush of light-headedness at the confirmation. All the dreams and memories aside, and even the photographs- to have the proof there, on paper before him- he shook himself and continued to read.

_If you are finally reading this, I can only assume that it has been many years. I am sure you remember many important events, though I know that there are memories that elude you. Thomas died yesterday. I hope for your sake, or rather, for the sake of my future, that the memories of his death do not haunt you now. Although I knew the day was coming, and I have been dreading it with every fiber of my being for the past decade, I must admit that I was unprepared for the depth of pain I feel. If it weren't for the knowledge that we will have a future together, in such a new and exciting time, I'm not sure I could have taken the time to write this at all._

_To myself: you must be strong. I know that things have not be easy for you. Even so I can't regret my gifts. Maybe never knowing would have been easier, but I'm glad for it. I'm glad I had a glimpse of the future, however fleeting. You must live well! You have everything you could possibly want at your disposal! Don't waste any more time! We've worked too hard for this future, you must pull yourself together!_

_All the legal documentation should still be in the deposit box. The hotel will be yours, and everything that comes with it. I don't know what else will happen in your future- I never let myself see that far ahead, so know that nothing you do from this moment onwards is preordained. Take the money and do something with your life. I've worked too hard to let it go to waste. I want the life we should have been allowed to live all along, if society had been decent. _

_Give him my love._

Jimmy read the letter several times. The breath caught in his throat for a moment. Everything he had worked for had been ruined. He barely had access to his money. The hotel was run by a board and his father, and Thomas's death was his most frequent nightmare. Everything had gone wrong.

_But you have Thomas now, _a small voice in the back of his head told him. _And that's the most important thing. _

"What's it say?" Thomas asked, and Jimmy swallowed and looked up at him. He shook his head, unable to speak, and thrust the letter in his direction. Thomas traded off the photographs and newspaper scraps with him, and Jimmy rifled through them aimlessly, unseeing.

A few headlines caught his attention. 'A RAGS TO RICHES STORY' one clipping proclaimed, with a grainy black and white photo of Thomas standing in front of the Europa's doors. Another said 'THE EUROPA HOTEL SAVED FROM RUIN' and went on to talk about the Great Depression. Then an old photograph of he and Thomas standing in a large room with a dark haired woman, smiling at the camera. He flipped the picture over and read the back, which said simply 'Downton, 1933' and nothing else.

Thomas nudged him with his elbow, and he looked up. "Well." Thomas said. "I guess that's that, then?" He carefully refolded the letter and tucked it back inside the envelope. "Let's take these and go?" He said, gesturing to the papers. "You look like you need to lie down."

"Do I?" Jimmy asked, and for some reason, Thomas's acknowledgment was enough to make reality sink in. He closed his eyes, feeling as though an enormous weight had been lifted from him, but in the same breath, he felt confusion, and _anger_ welling up inside of him at being _lied_ to by his father for so long. Not just the lies, but the _betrayal_, to steal something that belonged to your own child- and to _use_ his own mental health against him-

"Yes, come on, then." Thomas said, taking the photos out of Jimmy's numb hands and stacking everything together neatly. He picked Jimmy's laptop bag off the floor and slid the bundle inside before slinging it over his own shoulder.

"I can- get that-" Jimmy said, weakly. The room seemed to spin around him.

The banker appeared with almost no warning to Jimmy, who had not heard his footsteps over the rushing in his ears. He nodded to Jimmy, closing the case and handing him back his key. "Thank you..." Jimmy said, but he did not know if his voice had been loud enough to hear.

The autumn sunlight was over-bright when they made it outside, and Jimmy kept his grip on Thomas's arm firmly, his vision fuzzing with each blink. Sometimes he saw the street in daylight, sometimes a dark place he could not name; a long corridor, or passing by a darkened window. "Ahh- my head-" He said, his free hand flying up to cover his eyes from the light.

It could have only been a second later, he wasn't sure, when the feeling passed. Thomas had pulled him up against the brick wall of a building and was watching him with a terrified expression. "Are you alright, Jimmy? What's happening? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No-" Jimmy shook his head, and the world swam around him. "No, I think I'm in shock."

"That's going around." Thomas said. His voice was light but he appeared no less worried.

"I'm alright. It's nothing new. Just a memory." Jimmy said, "Come on, let's go back to your place?"

"Alright..." Thomas answered, his brow furrowing in concern once more before leading Jimmy away from the wall.

* * *

It was growing late by the time the servants hall cleared out for the night. Jimmy waited impatiently at the table, playing cards with Alfred while willing him to turn in- and when he did, playing solitaire as he silently watched Thomas reading the paper. The air felt thick around him, and time seemed to slow, keeping him waiting for an unbearably long minutes.

_I can't wait to be alone with you_, he thought to Thomas, as though he were speaking and Thomas could hear him. _I love you more than I imagined was possible. I guess that's what happens when you see as much as we've seen together. _Thomas's eyes flicked up to him, and Jimmy realized that he'd been staring at his face for some time. Thomas flashed him a bare hint of a grin, returning to his paper.

"We should go." Jimmy said, in a low voice. Thomas glanced around quickly, though no one had passed by the room in several minutes. Jimmy stood and pushed his chair in, bouncing on his feet.

"If you're sure about it." Thomas said, removing a cigarette from the pack on the table and lighting it. Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to change." He told Thomas, who was already wearing his own clothing. He felt a nervous thrill chase through him as he took the stairs two at a time, landing carefully as to not make too much noise. _This is happening_, he thought. _You're about to do this. _

His hands were shaking as he changed out of his livery. He paused to look at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair. _Stop that and go,_ he told himself, and he grabbed his coat on the way out of the room.

He took more care on the way back down the stairs, scanning each darkened hall as he passed, his footsteps quiet over the floors and carpets. Back downstairs, Thomas was waiting for him by the door. His heart hammered in his throat for a moment, but he forced himself to check the servant's hall, just to be safe.

"Are you ready?" Thomas asked him, his voice just above a whisper. Jimmy nodded and followed Thomas through the door.

"_Apparently he bought the hotel from the owner after the stock market crash." Thomas said. He was seated at the small circular table by the arched window. _

_Jimmy heard his own voice in his ears. "If by 'him', you mean 'you'." He wandered over to the table, standing next to Thomas's chair._

"_Yes." Thomas answered, looking up at him. "You know what I mean."_

"_Oh-" Jimmy said, and he was overwhelmed with emotion. "Oh, you're wearing your ring." _

_Thomas broke eye contact, turning his attention back to the papers on the table. "Well, I didn't want it to get lost."_

"_Thomas-" Jimmy leaned over him, grabbing the sides of Thomas's face with his hands. He pressed his mouth against Thomas's and kissed him insistently, as though trying to convey a great depth of emotion without words._

Thomas broke the kiss and stepped away quickly. "_Careful_." He hissed, glancing around the abandoned courtyard suspiciously. When he was satisfied that they had not been seen, he turned back to Jimmy and asked, "_What_ are you going on about?"

"Huh? Nothing, why? What did I say?" Jimmy asked, focusing on Thomas's face. His eyes were wide with worry and his jaw was set.

Thomas held him back at arm's length. "Perhaps we'd better stay in tonight. I think you're coming down with something."

"_No!_" Jimmy shook his head insistently. "You've already paid for the room, we're going! I'm bloody _fine! _We'll have to wait for _months _for another night we can sneak off."

"But you _just_ said-" Thomas shot back.

"_Come on!_" Jimmy interrupted, dragging him away by his arm.

When the house was behind them and they were passing into the dark woods, Thomas spoke again. "What is going _on_ with you, Jimmy? Did you hit your head at some point?"

"Nothing's going on." Jimmy answered, and stopped walking, pulling on Thomas's arm. Thomas paused, turning to face him, his brow furrowed. "I just want you." He said.

As if to emphasize his point, Jimmy stepped forward and pressed his body against Thomas's, lacing his hands behind Thomas's neck to pull his head down. He crushed his lips against Thomas's, pressing his tongue into his mouth and his chest against him, desperate to be closer. Thomas made a noise of surprise, and after a moment, his hands were on Jimmy's back, clutching him closer still, returning the kiss.

_Jimmy led Thomas away from the table and over to the bed, stumbling backwards, clumsily, trying not to let his lips leave Thomas's for more than a fraction of a second. Thomas impeded their progress; grabbing Jimmy around the waist and pulling them flush together, his hands finding their way under the back of Jimmy's shirt._

"_Mmm-" Jimmy bit his lip as Thomas's thigh pressed between his, and he closed his eyes, rocking his hips against him. "Ah... yes... wait, stop-"_

Thomas pushed him away after a long moment, breathing quickly. "If I had known you wanted to do this in the woods, Jimmy, I wouldn't've gone all the way into town."

Jimmy laughed breathlessly. At this point, despite the chill, he wasn't above considering that as an option. "Come on then." He waved Thomas after him, increasingly eager to make it to their room above the pub.

"I made up a story." Thomas said as they walked. Jimmy watched him out of the corner of his eye, checking to see that Thomas wasn't winded or tiring. It hadn't been so long since the coma, yet.

"Oh?" Jimmy asked, shoving his hands in his pockets against the cold. The rest of his body was over-warm but he resisted the urge to loosen his tie. "What sort of story?"

"A cover story." Thomas fished around in his coat for his cigarettes, lighting one before he spoke again. "We've been traveling all night, and we just need somewhere to sleep for a few hours before we walk up to the house. Don't want to wake anyone so we didn't call for a ride."

"Right," Jimmy said, finding it difficult to concentrate on his words. "Hopefully we won't have to say anything to anyone."

"I already mentioned it when I rented the room." Thomas answered. "Can't be too careful, I'm sure almost everyone in the village has seen our faces, at the very least."

"No one will suspect." Jimmy said, only half-focused on their conversation. He tried to clear his mind, to not think ahead to the room where they would be alone- but his pulse raced in waves, spiking back up each time he looked at Thomas. He studied Thomas's profile in the dark, imagining the flush on his face, the softness of his lips on Jimmy's throat, his hands on his bare skin-

"You were visiting a cousin, I met you in Thirsk on your way back-" Thomas went on.

"Don't _worry_." Jimmy reached out, grasping Thomas's free hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "Next time we'll- we'll plan it out better-" Jimmy tried not to think about how far away next time might be. Perhaps Thomas would relent and let Jimmy stay in his room before then. _Once he has a clean bill of health, maybe. _

Once they reached the pub, Jimmy followed Thomas up the stairs single-file, trying to appear as though he wasn't desperate to race up to their room, though the pub had been nearly deserted when they'd walked by. Jimmy's pulse was fluttering in his throat- with the fear of being found out, the anticipation of getting into the room, the excitement and trepidation over what was to come. He fidgeted impatiently as he waited for Thomas to fish the key out of his pocket and unlock the door.

Jimmy nearly burst into the room once Thomas had the door open, ripping off his coat and tossing it haphazardly on to one of the two beds. Thomas closed the door quietly behind them and locked it. He turned to face Jimmy, and their eyes locked, a thousand unspoken thoughts between them in one glance.

"_I feel like I've been waiting for you forever." Thomas said. Jimmy leaned away from him enough to look him in the eyes, his heart racing._

"_D-do you mean that?" Jimmy asked, but Thomas's hands were doing things that distracted him from the answer. "Ah-"_

"_Yes," Thomas answered softly, as if admitting a dark secret, and he leaned over Jimmy to kiss him. "From that first moment I saw your face, I think I knew-"_

Jimmy grasped Thomas's jacket collar and pulled him back against the wall, pressing his lips to Thomas's again and again. His hands were shaking furiously but they worked at the buttons on Thomas's coat and then his shirt. He was dimly aware, as Thomas's fingers expertly undid his tie, that here was here and _there_, and somewhere else they were overlapping, as though there were no distance between _then_ and _now_. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall when Thomas kissed a line from under his jaw to the hollow of his throat.

"Ahh-" He said, pressing his hips against Thomas's. He was already unbearably hard, after the walk and all the anticipation. Thomas pulled away from him, his eyes wide, and shook his head.

"_Quiet._" He urged, and Jimmy pushed him away, impatient to get out of his constricting clothing. Thomas sat on the bed opposite of the one Jimmy had been throwing their clothes on, watching Jimmy undress with an unreadable expression. Jimmy kicked off his shoes and left them under the other bed, and laid his clothes over the blanket as neatly as he was able, but Thomas had stopped, his eyes tracking Jimmy.

"What is it?" Jimmy whispered. Thomas reached his hands out to him, touching Jimmy's bare torso.

"I can't believe this is happening." Thomas answered, his voice held a tone that sounded something like awe.

Jimmy bit his tongue at the feeling of Thomas's hands moving across his chest, trying not to make a sound. He leaned into the touch, squeezing his eyes shut. One was palm pressed flat against his skin and the other was all fingertips and the brush of Thomas's glove against him, and he shivered, his skin flushing with warmth.

Thomas began to ask, "Are you _sure_-" but Jimmy cut him off, leaning down to kiss him before he could finish the question. Thomas's hands traced over his sides and around his back, tugging him closer, and Jimmy moved to kneel on the bed, pressing himself against Thomas once again, and fighting back a moan at the sensation.

"_Thomas-" Jimmy said, trying to clear his mind. Thomas braced himself up on his elbows over Jimmy, breathing quickly. Jimmy smiled at him, but then laughed a bit nervously. "This feels so good-" He said, his voice breaking. He licked his lips, putting his thoughts in order. "But there's something else- there's something-"_

"_Hmm?" Thomas asked, dropping his head to leave kisses on Jimmy's chest. _

"_Yes- ahh-" Jimmy gasped, pressing his body up against Thomas's. He ran his hands through Thomas's hair, gently tugging his face up. "Stop distracting me." He said, rubbing himself against Thomas again for another moment. "Mmph- ahh- w-what I meant to ask-" Jimmy went on, fighting his embarrassment. "What I meant to ask was- you don't- you don't have any condoms, do you?"_

_Thomas sat back, narrowing his eyes at Jimmy. "What do you have in mind?" he asked, his voice rough and the flush on his face going darker._

"_Just, um-" Jimmy closed his eyes. His heart was beating in his throat. "You know-" He waved a hand in the air. "The, uhh, the- you know, like- um..." He cleared his throat. "Sex?"_

_Thomas laughed and leaned over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer. "Yes, okay."_

"_Right." Jimmy nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay."_

"Right, you should be more undressed than this." Jimmy whispered hoarsely, his lips close to Thomas's ear. Regretful for the loss of physical contact, he climbed on to the bed behind Thomas, pulling back the blankets. He was too aroused to feel properly nervous, but it was there somewhere, back behind his overwhelming desire.

"Yes." Thomas said, and he stood and finished undressing, laying his clothes out next to Jimmy's. He returned to the bed and sat facing Jimmy, who felt a new wave of even stronger desire wash over him at the sight of Thomas fully undressed, and so close to him. He swept his eyes over Thomas's form and up, where he was struck by the guarded expression on his face.

"What is it?" Jimmy asked, reaching out to touch Thomas's shoulder. He'd meant for the touch to be comforting, or something- but Thomas's bare skin felt amazing to touch, and he moved closer to him, so that their foreheads and shoulders were nearly touching, his fingers tracing down the front of his chest."Thomas, please..." He asked, though he was unsure of what he was asking for.

"It's just a bit of nerves." Thomas whispered. He closed his eyes and shook his head after a moment. "I want this to be perfect."

"_I'm so nervous." Jimmy said, and Thomas looked suddenly alarmed. _

"_We don't have to do this yet." He told Jimmy, who shook his head._

"Come here, won't you?" Jimmy asked, laying back against the bed. "It's already perfect." He tugged on Thomas's arm, and after a moment he followed him under the blankets. "It already _has been_ perfect."

"When you say things like _that_, Jimmy..." Thomas said, but trailed off when Jimmy moved up against him and kissed him, combing his fingers through Thomas's hair.

"I want this." Jimmy told him, as quietly as he could manage. "Please, I _want_ you-"

"_I want you to do this- this is what I've been thinking of..." Jimmy reached a hand out to Thomas, resting his hand on his forearm. Thomas caught his hand and brought it up to his face, pressing his lips to Jimmy's palm. _

"_If you're sure." Thomas said._

"I'm sure." Jimmy insisted.

Thomas hesitated for a moment, and closed his eyes, as though debating something with himself- before leaning over Jimmy and kissing him deeply, pressing him back against the bed. He ran a hand down Jimmy's chest and stomach and down, his palm and fingers curling around his erection.

"Ah-" A small sound escaped Jimmy's mouth before he could stop it, and Thomas reached up with his free hand, covering Jimmy's mouth with his gloved palm.

"Shh-" Thomas reminded him, moving his hand slowly. Jimmy heard his own voice muffled against Thomas's glove, and he fought himself into silence, pressing himself into Thomas's touch. Waves of pleasure rolled over him in time with the movements of Thomas's hand, each one a bit stronger than the last.

"_D-dont-", Jimmy said. "Or I'll-" _He pushed Thomas's hand away from him, shuddering. Thomas leaned back and uncovered his mouth, his brow furrowed in silent question. "No, that's not what I want." Jimmy whispered to him. He ached for Thomas's touch, but he wanted something more- something from his dreams-

"Oh..." Thomas gave him a confused look. "What- what did you-"

Jimmy swallowed. A flutter of anxiety twisted in his stomach. But worse than that, he _wanted_ this, he wanted what they'd had in their dreams, and he'd been thinking of it ever since. Thomas _with_ him, _inside_ of him- He closed his eyes at the thought, his breathing quick and shallow.

"Did you- did you bring anything?" Jimmy asked. He glanced over at Thomas's coat on the other bed.

Thomas shot him an incredulous look. "What do you mean?"

"You _know_ what I mean. " Jimmy hissed, covering his eyes with a hand. "Some kind of lubrication, or something-"

"Yes." Thomas answered warily, and left the bed to retrieve it.

"I _know_ what I'm talking about, I _remember._" Jimmy told Thomas when he returned with the jar. "I know what to do."

"Do you?" Thomas asked him softly, raising an eyebrow.

Jimmy nodded, grabbing Thomas's hand. "Come here."

"_Ahh- Oh god-" Jimmy sobbed at the feeling of Thomas's fingers inside of him, and he pushed down against them, wincing a bit. There were tears in the corners of his eyes. "Yes- please-" he moaned, and opened his eyes, watching Thomas watch him. _The sensation was so overwhelming that he could do nothing but gasp wordlessly, trying to keep himself a bit separate, but both times were layered over each other, and Thomas was here with him in both places, in one place, at once-Thomas's eyes were heavy-lidded and his lips were parted. Jimmy kissed him roughly, breaking away and hissing when Thomas moved his fingers gently.

"Tell me if it hurts-" He told Jimmy.

"_I- I would if it did-_"_ Jimmy answered, but words were almost beyond his grasp._

"Yes, do it now-" Jimmy whispered, laying his arm across the back of Thomas's shoulders. _"Please, Thomas, I love you-"_

Thomas looked up at his him, stilling the movements of his hand, his eyes studying Jimmy's face as if for consent. "Alright-" He said, after a moment, and pulled his fingers away from Jimmy, who bit his lip and winced. "You're alright?" He asked, his voice low.

"_Perfectly fine,"Jimmy laughed a bit. _He nodded, and grasped Thomas's arms, trying to pull him on top of him. Thomas moved over him, his face a mask of concentration and barely-concealed lust and concern. He knelt between Jimmy's legs, and when he rested his left hand on his hip, Jimmy could feel the trembling in it. He felt himself shiver in return, despite the warmth of his body. _He felt terribly vulnerable, suddenly, as he lay there with Thomas above him, completely exposed._

"Please-" He mouthed at Thomas, in the stillness of the room. Thomas's eyelids fluttered shut for a moment, and then he leaned over him, bringing them closer together.

Thomas nodded at him, and Jimmy reached out and squeezed his arm in silent reassurance. _Don't be nervous_, he thought, as Thomas pressed against gently. We_'ve done this more times than I can count._

Jimmy covered his mouth with his own hand when Thomas moved into him a bit, it felt like _so much_- He took a deep breath and tried to keep himself calm, but his pulse refused to slow. Thomas's brows knitted together in concentration, and his mouth formed a gasp that never became a sound. Jimmy reached up, running his thumb across Thomas's cheek, and he turned his face to the side, brushing his lips against Jimmy's fingers.

Jimmy felt a bit of pain- or discomfort- but too much pleasure to care, and he moved his hips up. _Thomas hissed and pushed into him_ _in response, dropping his head, his hair falling into his eyes. "Careful-" He ground out, his voice very low. "G-god dammit- you feel incredible-"_

"_Yes." Jimmy grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling himself up to press his mouth to Thomas's. "Please- keep going-"_

Thomas made the smallest noise through closed lips, and he settled on to his elbows over Jimmy and kissed him, thrusting very slowly. Jimmy shuddered, his mouth against Thomas's, and arched up, pressing them together completely. He put his voice into that _other room_, the other place where they were, where he did not have to stay quiet. _"Oh yes, oh please, oh- Thomas-", he said, moving back against him, urging him to go faster, his fingers gripped in Thomas's hair or twisting in the sheets. _

"_I l-love you-" Thomas was saying, but Jimmy could only kiss the side of his face in return, words outside his grasp. _

Jimmy felt a euphoria settle over him that he hadn't felt anywhere but in dreams, even as he was half out of his mind- even in this strange room, or in the apartment- with them connected this way. He watched Thomas's face as best he could, though his eyes kept falling shut on their own. Thomas licked his lips and moaned silently and kissed him softly, reverently, almost. Jimmy was overwhelmed with pleasure, with _Thomas_, with them together, and he could feel it building, his body so feverishly hot that he could barely stand it.

"Mpph-" he pressed his lips to Thomas's the block the sound. _"I can't-"_

"_Ahh-" Thomas rested his face against Jimmy's neck, his movements ragged. "Yes."_

"I have to-" Jimmy cut the words off, biting down hard on his tongue, and moved his hips forcefully, unthinkingly, uncaring for how sore he'd be later. Thomas reached down to stroke Jimmy's erection, his hand uncharacteristically uncoordinated and rough against him, and Jimmy wrapped his arms around Thomas's shoulders and curled towards him, his muscles tensing involuntarily.

"_Thomas-" he cried, his voice sharp. "Ahh- I-"_

"Yes-" Thomas whispered, against the side of his face. _"God yes, Jimmy, yes- do it then, I love that-"_

Jimmy's body shuddered, and spasmed, and he was lost in that brief moment for an eternity. _Both times_ were only one time, or no time at all, and all he knew of was Thomas and this feeling between them, and the intense pleasure he felt, blotting everything else out. He held on to Thomas, breathing in gasps, and then then collapsed back after, bonelessly, on to the mattress. Little shocks twinged all over his body as Thomas pushed up against him hard, his mouth open and his brow furrowed.

Thomas slumped over him and rested his head on Jimmy's chest, breathing rapidly. His hand was shaking still as it pushed Jimmy's hair away from his face, and Jimmy looked down, meeting his eyes. Thomas looked up at him with a look of adoration, or love, or awe, or maybe a bit of each. Jimmy could feel Thomas there, his consciousness, connected to him. The outlines of the room were different, clashing, but for a moment he was there _together_, away from time and just _looking_ in, at two points. Everything that had happened in _both_ lifetimes crammed into his skull, overlapping, contradicting. Just he and Thomas, and nothing else at all.

And then it shifted and he felt it pull apart- his awareness separated, leaving him in both places at once.

_When his breathing finally returned to normal, Thomas rested next to him on the bed in the afternoon sunlight, holding him close. "I love you," he told Jimmy, __kissing the side of his face_. "I've always loved you."

_ Jimmy smiled at him, feeling the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes. He had never been so blissful_ _in his life._

Thomas pulled Jimmy close and kissed him, running his hands through his hair. "I love you," He murmured, against Jimmy's throat. "I'll always love you."

Jimmy closed his eyes and whispered, "I love you too."

* * *

**chapter 6 is up :D  
**


	6. The Gilded Mirror

In Thomas's apartment, Jimmy slept for only a moment. He had jolted awake, remembering smoke and mist and mirrors from some half-formed dream. Now, he sat up with Thomas in the bed with the stacks of documents and letters and photographs around them, reading aloud to each other.

"Listen to _this-" _Thomas said, holding a letter up to catch the last rays of sunlight through the window. "It's from that Mary so-and-so- 'I cannot thank you both enough for what you've done for the house, and my family-' uh.. something something _something_-" He skimmed down the page. "'Though it's strange to share my home with so many visitors, I know that Downton will safely remain in our family for many generations, and while I can't say that I do not miss New York, it feels good to be home, finally, after so many years.' -this is dull." He flung the letter on to the bed.

Jimmy was resting sleepily against Thomas's shoulder, reading along from his vantage point. He sighed, and glanced down at the papers in his own hands; a copy of Thomas's will, a copy of his own will- naming the future child of his young cousin as the heir to the Europa, which seemed like a gamble, really- and felt no overwhelming desire to read them at all. He set them aside, and then threw his arm across Thomas's front, resting his head in the crook of his neck. "Mmm..." He sighed again, contentedly.

Thomas rested his head against Jimmy's, and slipped his right arm behind his back, pulling him into an embrace. He smoked his electronic cigarette placidly, and Jimmy took it from him a few times, thinking about everything that had happened that day. The lock box, the papers, the rings, the watch, his dizzy spell when leaving the bank- and the _sex_- he made himself blush thinking about it, but it had been perfect and wonderful and transcendent, somehow- as if something had happened that he couldn't quite recall. An echo of something, a memory from before, almost as if he were living two lives side by side.

He looked at the papers spread out before them, and his mind wandered back to the moment in the bank, when he'd discovered that his father had already unlocked the box once before. He'd been so angry, and he still was, but deep down he felt more hurt and betrayed than anything, and he wanted answers. His father must have known that Jimmy was right all along, even without reading the letter that Jimmy had left for himself. Even if he hadn't known for _sure_, he must have at least suspected. And yet, he'd kept it hidden, or _omitted,_ and took the responsibilities of the hotel on himself, without asking.

"I'm going to talk to my father." Jimmy said, deciding it almost as the words were coming out of his mouth. "I'm going to go, right now. I bet he's still at his office." He sat up pushing the blankets off of himself. "You'll come with me?" He asked Thomas, as he searched for his shirt at the foot of the bed.

Thomas blinked at the abrupt question, but shrugged a moment later. "Yes, okay." He said, gathering up papers.

Thomas went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of clean and neatly folded jeans- the ones Jimmy had been wearing on the day they had met, and handed them to him. Jimmy laughed, and flushed at the memory, but took them from Thomas and put them on.

"So I'm meeting the family." Thomas said, as they got dressed. He sounded trepidatious.

Jimmy looked up at him- Thomas's face was obscured by the shirt he was pulling on over his head for a moment. "You don't have to." He answered, looking at the floor. He replaced the stack of papers in his laptop bag. "I know I've asked a lot of you already, and I- I don't want to push you away."

Thomas finished pulling on the shirt and crossed the distance between them, grabbing Jimmy and crushing him into a hug. "Stop that." He said. "I'm with you."

Jimmy closed his eyes, and let himself lean against Thomas. He was right. They were together now, and they would stay that way, and they would get through everything. "Okay." He whispered, trying to believe in it, trying to let himself feel that it was true- _it's true, it's true, he's alive and you don't have to wait for him anymore and he loves you and he won't leave you._

"Come on, then." Thomas stepped towards the door, pulling on Jimmy's arm. "Let's go give your old man hell."

* * *

Jimmy let himself into his father's office, as his secretary had already left for the night. He left Thomas on the waiting room couch, and as much as Jimmy wanted to bring him along for support, he had to confront his father alone at first, to make sure he said everything he needed to say. After that, he would bring Thomas in, and then the proof of their past lives would be irrefutable.

He'd been right about his father still being at the office. He kept late hours at work- a habit inherited from years scraping by in small business. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't look up from his computer screen when Jimmy entered the room, the blue-white glare reflecting off his glasses. Jimmy dropped his laptop bag in one of the chairs opposite his father's desk, and only then did he look away from the screen, startled.

"Jimmy?" He asked, looking up suddenly. His father was very much alike him in looks, and though he still retained some of his boyish charm even into his fifties, his mouth turned down almost perpetually, and there were worry lines across his forehead. It gave him the disconcerting impression of concern at all times, even though Jimmy knew better than to trust it.

"Dad." Jimmy answered, as he gathered the stacks of papers from his laptop bag.

"What are you doing here?" His father asked, pushing his chair back and standing up. "I haven't seen you in weeks, are you alright?"

Jimmy threw the stack of papers down on his desk, wordlessly. He watched his father look them over, confused. "When were you going to tell me about this?" He asked, trying to keep his voice level. His hands shook and he stuffed them into his pants pockets.

"Oh-" His father said, flipping through the papers. "Oh, Jimmy, I'm sorry." He looked up, shaking his head. He came around the desk, arms outstretched. "I'm so, so sorry-"

"NO!" Jimmy jumped away from him. "Don't you _dare_ try to coddle me, you _tell me now- why_ didn't you tell me you knew about this?! _Why_ would you let me live like this when you could have _told_ me what I felt was real?!"

"I couldn't _tell_ you, Jimmy-" His father started, but Jimmy cut him off.

"What do you _mean_ you couldn't tell me?! Of _course_ you could tell me, in fact, you _should have told me_ right away! You should never have lied to me like this, and taken the hotel and everything else from me! How _dare _you?!"

His father stepped back, wordlessly, and took off his glasses. He rubbed at his eyes and slumped back against his desk. Jimmy, filled with rage, watched in horror as his father's shoulders began to shake.

"What are you doing, you're _crying? _You don't- you don't _get_ to cry about this- this is _my_ life you've ruined-" He ranted, but his father did not look up, and the anger flooded away from him at once, and instead he just felt awful and sick. "Well _say_ something!"

His father placed his glasses down on the desk, wiping at his cheeks with a hand. His eyes were bleary and red. "What do you think you would have done, Jimmy?" He asked quietly. "If I had told you about all this-" he gestured to the papers on his desk. "-when you were eighteen... I couldn't have Jimmy, because if you had seen the pictures- I knew if you saw Thomas, that you would try to hurt yourself-"

Jimmy shook his head. "That's no excuse."

"Yes, Jimmy, it is." His father answered, solemnly. "I _know_ you remember the things you used to say. That unless you could find him you would- you would _kill_ yourself to be with him, and so your mother and I thought- we thought that if you didn't know, and you went to your appointments and you took your medicine, maybe you could move on." He covered his eyes with his hand again. "I couldn't let you die. I watched you _suffer _with this, Jimmy, your whole _life_." He dropped his hands away from his face and squinted as though holding back tears, his worry lines deepening.

Jimmy shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around his father's words. "So you were just going to treat me like a child forever? Let me think I really have this disorder, and need to be _medicated _for the rest of my life? And take away all my responsibilities- take away the hotel and _my_ money?"

"But, I think you _might_ really have it, Jimmy." His father said, holding up his hands in supplication. "You see things, and you _hear_ things, and you've always had a hard time talking to people you didn't know, even when you were small. I don't know if it's _because _of your- your _memories, _or maybe you just have a harder time with it because of them." He looked up at Jimmy, his face sincere. "I was trying to unburden you. I knew that things would never be easy for you, and so I was trying to do whatever I could to make life livable for you."

Jimmy swallowed, clenching and unclenching his hands in his pockets. He didn't know what to think, anymore. This was not going the way he'd planned. "Well, I _did_ find him. Thomas, I mean."

His father looked up at him sharply. "You _what?_"

"I said I _found_ him. He's outside." Jimmy jerked his head back towards the door.

"Oh my." His father stood up straight, looking almost fearful. "Oh, go get him."

Jimmy nodded, and went to the door, opening it a crack and peering out into the waiting room. "Come here?" He asked, quietly, and Thomas shoved his phone into his pocket and stood, crossing over to him.

"What's wrong? What did he say to you?" Thomas asked him, peering over his head into the office.

"It's okay, or something-" Jimmy said, reaching out to him. "Come in?"

Thomas nodded, his jaw set and his lips pressed in a thin line. He followed Jimmy inside, his father watching them approach with with disbelief, or perhaps shock on his face. Thomas held out a hand, his eyes darting between Jimmy and his father nervously. "Hello, I'm Thomas." He said.

Jimmy's father stepped forward and grasped his hand for a brief moment, but his face stayed serious. "I'm Gerald, Jimmy's fath- well, you know that already, I guess." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, you must know that this was all yours at one point. The hotel, I mean, not the office."

"Ah-" Thomas shifted from foot to foot. "To be perfectly honest, I don't have any memory of it. Vague details, here and there." He glanced at Jimmy, as though apologetic.

"It is you, though, isn't it? I've seen all the pictures." Jimmy's father asked him. "We've heard a lot about you, my wife and I. Never thought I would meet you, to be honest."

"Sorry, I didn't know." Thomas shook his head.

"It's not your fault." Gerald said. "And it's not _yours_, either, Jimmy."

Jimmy turned away from them, struggling to maintain his composure. He had no idea that he'd been waiting to hear those words for so long, but now that he had, he wanted to sob with relief. He bit down on his tongue, _hard_, to keep himself from crying. He felt Thomas's hand squeeze around his fingers. "Yes, I know that." He bit out, his voice cracking.

"So then." His father clasped his hands together. "What do you want, Jimmy? You want more control over the hotel? Do you want to get your dosage lowered? More access to your money? Because we can talk about that, if you like. We can get rid of the conservatorship, that's fine, but you'll have to keep going to your appointments if you want to, that's out of my hands at this point-"

"Yes." Jimmy said, turning back to him. "Yes, all of that."

Gerald nodded. "Alright. I'll come with you to see Dr. Bell, and we'll talk to her together, alright?" He reached out, clasping Jimmy's shoulders in an awkward half-hug. "We'll get this all worked out, okay? You should have talked to me sooner, Jimmy."

Jimmy nodded, gripping at Thomas's fingers. "Yeah. You swear it? Because I can't- I can't do this anymore. And I'm done with school." He added.

His father laughed softly. "Yeah, okay. And yes, I swear it. We'll fix it." He turned his attention to Thomas. "I hope you have some idea what will happen to him if you mess this up."

Thomas swallowed but nodded. "Some idea, yes."

Gerald nodded hesitantly, and looked between them. "It's surreal." He said, not bothering to elaborate. "Okay. Call me tomorrow, Jimmy, and I'll meet you at Dr. Bell's." He handed Jimmy the papers from his desk and he took them, packing them away in his bag.

His father walked them to the door. "Bye." Jimmy said, quietly.

"See you tomorrow." His father said, nodding at them as they left.

Thomas clasped Jimmy's hand as they walked the short distance back to the Europa. "It's going to be alright, it's all going to work out." Thomas said, ducking his head down.

Jimmy nodded. He was still processing what his father had said, but he was so _hopeful_, that finally, _finally _everything was falling into place, and he really would be able to move on. And Thomas would be with him, and they could live their lives again, and maybe for a while he would lose himself in it, and let go of the past. "Maybe it really will. It _will, _won't it?"'

"Yes," Thomas said, nodding at the man who held open the door for them as they passed into the Europa's lobby. "It absolutely will."

* * *

Jimmy fell asleep, and dreamed of something odd- and he knew dimly that Thomas was not dreaming with him because he was awake in their rented room above the pub. He was flooded with warm affection for the other man, who lay in the bed next to his sleeping body, likely smoking and watching the clock. Even so, he was curious- and so he wandered about this strange place he'd arrived- a boundless space, with confusing edges and murky light. Ahead of him was a lighter spot, and he walked towards it slowly, watching swirls of mist break apart before him like smoke.

In the middle of the light was a mirror- a large, ornate mirror, floating above the ground, with a gold frame and glass that was a clear as crystal. He pressed his hands against his mirror hands, pushing on it, as though it were a door that would open. It did not budge, but he saw the confusion in the eyes of his reflection.

He woke suddenly with a sharp inhale, startling, and he realized that he'd only dozed off for a few minutes, really, and that Thomas was still next to him, the covers pulled haphazardly up over him. Thomas watched him, quizzically, but his expressions were slow and lazy and the corners of his mouth turned up.

"Hello." Jimmy said quietly. He felt oddly bashful, now, remembering everything. He shifted closer, resting his head next to Thomas's on the pillow, and laid his arm across his chest. Thomas brought his hand and cigarette up to his mouth, and Jimmy watched the lit end flare as he inhaled, sparking brightly in the dim light.

"Hello." Thomas answered, exhaling smoke as he spoke. He leaned over, kissing Jimmy softly, and Jimmy felt an ache of something low in his stomach- a memory of desire, or his body responding faintly to what they'd done before- he shivered when Thomas leaned away from him, longing for more.

"What time is it?" He asked instead, his voice rough from sleep.

"Just after two." Thomas said. He stretched over to stub the end of his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand. "We can stay for a bit, but we should leave in an hour or so."

Jimmy felt a pang of dread at his words, and he nestled more firmly into the bed, as though that would be enough for him to stay there indefinitely. He was bombarded by unwelcome thoughts: What if they'd been seen leaving? What if someone had found that they'd gone? What if they were recognized on the way back? When could they ever be alone again?

Then, all at once, he remembered that _place_- the other place, in the future, where he'd been at the _same time-_ and try as he might to hold on to the details- _daylight spilling in through the arched window, or Thomas's face above him, or the feel of his hands on his skin- _the _awareness_ was slipping away from him. He couldn't recall _how_ but he knew that he was- he knew that _something-_ something _significant_ had happened. He looked over to Thomas, excited to tell him- but then stopped himself. No, he could not tell Thomas about this, Thomas would not understand. He'd be upset. He would _worry_, and he'd worried enough already.

"What is it?" Thomas asked, apparently having seen him about to speak.

Jimmy shook his head. "Nothing." He smiled as sweetly as he could manage. "I don't want to leave. I've never been as happy."

An odd look crossed Thomas's face. He blinked, his eyes darting away, and a half-smile pulled at his lips before he covered it. "You don't mean _that._"

"Of course I do." Jimmy answered, mock-indignant. He lowered his voice, and said, seriously, "I really do, Thomas. I really do mean it."

Thomas smiled then, and laughed at himself, quietly. "Well then, you know how I feel."

"How _do_ you feel? I mean to say, how are you feeling?" Jimmy asked, stowing away his thoughts for later.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at him. "How am _I_ feeling? I think a better question is how are _you_ feeling?"

Jimmy could feel a blush creep up his throat and he tried to fight it down. "Ah, that's _not_ what I meant. I mean, aren't you tired? I know you're still not- not _well._"

Thomas sighed, and Jimmy saw the weariness on his face. Even so, he was getting so much stronger that soon he'd be working again. "I laid down for a bit this afternoon. Knew I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight." He grinned. "And you?"

This time, Jimmy really did blush. "F-fine, I think." He answered, taking stock of himself. He was rather sore, but he couldn't bring himself to mind. It had been worth it. He cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. "I- I wish it could be like this always." He gestured to the room. "Not _here_, but, you know." He let himself feel the sadness of it, for a second. "Someday."

Thomas put his arms around Jimmy's back and held him close. "If you really want that with me, Jimmy-" Jimmy could not see his face, but his voice sounded tight. "I'd be more than happy."

"Of course I do. What do you think I've been telling you all this time?" Jimmy whispered, pressing a kiss to whatever part of Thomas he could reach, which ended up being the side of his neck. "I just want to be with you, alone. I want to live my life, and I want you in it."

He could feel Thomas's lips brush across the top of his head. "I would always be there if you wanted me." he said his arms tightening around Jimmy's shoulders.

"I do. And you _will be_." Jimmy said, resolutely. "I'm just anxious for it to start."

An hour later they were carefully, quietly redressing. It was still black as pitch outside the window, and Jimmy could not help but long for the warmth and relative comfort of the bed, even though he'd been prepared for this the whole time. It had been _his idea_, even and _still_- as they crept down the stairs, he regretted leaving. Thomas left the room key on the bar and they walked out into cold air and darkness.

When they were away from the village he leaned against Thomas, looping his arm around his back as they walked. He hadn't realized just how sore he actually _was_ until he'd gotten up, but he could certainly feel it _now_, and he knew that he was walking slower than he might've otherwise. Thomas did not notice, or if he did, he didn't ask, though Jimmy was sure he saw Thomas's head turn towards him when he winced. But it wasn't a serious kind of hurt- and he wanted to be close to Thomas anyway, before they reached the house and had to keep their distance.

When the dark shape of Downton loomed on the horizon, Jimmy found the feeling of dread return to him. At one point, Downton had represented so many things; a good job, a chance to move up in the world, and even, after a while- home. But now- now it was different, like so many things. When he thought of himself before the dreams, he felt like his mind had been so narrow that he'd barely even known himself at all. He certainly had seen so little of the world. And Downton was becoming that way as well. He couldn't bear to be there any longer, because it wasn't _right,_ it wasn't where he was _supposed_ to _be._

His gaze traveled upwards, to the stars above. The night was very still and the air was crisp, and the stars shone brilliantly overhead. "Oh, Thomas, look." He said, pointing upwards. "The stars."

Thomas halted as he looked up. "Yes, the clouds must have cleared while we were inside."

Jimmy could barely remember anything from the walk to the pub, but he nodded anyway. "Thomas..." he began, trepidatious. "When you were in your coma-" He hesitated. They hadn't discussed it much. "-I- I told you that someday we'd look at the stars together."

Thomas put his arms around Jimmy's back. They stood together silently for a few minutes, watching the spots of light flicker silently in the sky. Jimmy swore he felt a tremor in Thomas's body, like he was about to cry, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Eventually, Thomas asked, "Did you really say that?"

"Yes." Jimmy said. Even his whispering sounded loud in the dark quiet. "We dreamt about it. When I woke up- I could barely remember anything, but I knew that we'd looked at the stars. So I hoped it would wake you."

He felt Thomas's lips against his cheek for a quick, fleeting instant, and then Thomas tugged him along. "S'much as I don't want to go in, I don't think I can stay upright for any longer."

"Right." Jimmy said. They began to walk again, and he could not will away the lump in his throat or the tight band of pain across his chest, try as he might.

Jimmy felt his steps slow and his legs grow heavier with each passing moment. Eventually, they made it to the house, and Thomas took great pains to open and close the door as quietly as possible. The corridor was dark when they stepped inside, and eerily quiet without the omnipresent sound of something bubbling on the stove or pans being scrubbed coming from the kitchen.

Suddenly, a door creaked, casting a beam of yellow light into the darkened corridor, and Jimmy felt his pulse spike wildly in his throat. He froze, but so did Thomas, and he knew that if they tried to make a hasty retreat now, they would be overheard easily- and so they stood rooted as they heard the sound of footsteps. Jimmy was overcome at once with pain, and regret- to feel such fear for doing nothing other than being with the person he loved-

Mrs. Hughes rounded the corner and gasped, her hand flying up to her heart. She was in her dressing gown; it was easily two hours before she would have normally woken, and she looked haggard and sleepless even in the dark. Jimmy jumped back a few steps, and Thomas flinched, his hand coming back as though he would push Jimmy away, and somehow take the blame solely upon himself in doing so.

"What on _earth_ are the two of you doing awake at this hour?" She asked, when she'd recovered, and then her expression changed quickly from confusion to clarity. Jimmy tried to speak, to say anything at all, but she waved a brisk, dismissive hand at them. "No, no, don't tell me anything." She sighed heavily, and glanced between them.

Cold shivers raced up Jimmy's spine. He thought that Mrs. Hughes was often a kind woman, but in this moment, she had the capacity to ruin them both, and though he knew- he _knew_ she would not, he couldn't help but fear it. _And so soon,_ he thought, mournfully. _Thomas was right. We can never really have this, not here._

"You need to be more _careful._" She whispered to them, her voice insistent. "If it had been anyone else awake- I don't even want to _consider_ what Mr. Carson would say-" She waved her hands again, as if shooing them. "I _won't_ speak of this again." She said, in the tones of a warning.

Thomas nodded solemnly, shakily exhaling. "Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

Jimmy followed him up the stairs. His hands were shaking, and he cursed himself for it, but cursed Mrs. Hughes, too- _We aren't children to be scolded, we're people with our own lives, and we want to _live_, too- _he felt perilously close to tears, but tears of _frustration_ more than anything else. _It isn't fair, it isn't _right-_I want to have our own lives, where we don't have to answer to anyone for loving each other_- a life in the future, the place he'd visited in his dreams-

Thomas paused outside of Jimmy's door with, and squeezed his arm reassuringly. "She won't say anything." He whispered, his voice almost inaudible.

"Thomas-" Jimmy choked out. He could not be without him, he could not make himself go alone into his room, he could not force himself to live this way any longer. "-I- I can't do it-"

Thomas's eyes went wide. "Ah- I-" he turned to the side, as though trying to hide his face from Jimmy in the darkness. "I understand." He finally said, his voice small.

"No..." Jimmy shook his head. "No, Thomas- I can't stay here- I can't- I can't be alone-"

Thomas's shoulders slumped, as thought all the tension drained out of him at once, and he clasped his hands around Jimmy's upper arms, giving them a brief squeeze. "Oh-I thought you meant-" He sighed quietly. "I'm sorry, but you _must-_" He whispered, and bent to kiss Jimmy for as long as either of them dared. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Jimmy." He said, holding him close for an instant.

Jimmy bit his lip to keep himself from speaking. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he _knew_ he should not talk about the dreams, or the future, or concern Thomas with it anymore than he had to. After all, Thomas would be there with him one way or another.

"I'm alright, I- I was just- startled." Jimmy lied, trying to make his voice convincingly even. "You should rest."

"Yes." Thomas nodded. "Goodnight." He said, and turned away, crossing the hallway and disappearing into his room with a last glance over his shoulder.

Jimmy lingered outside of his door, unable to move, overwhelmed. He wanted to sleep, and retreat into his dreams, but he could not, not after everything, and not when he felt this way. Not when he still felt tingles of fear and embarrassment at having been caught. Not when they'd been together not long ago, and now he had to sleep alone. Not when he knew that nothing would be right until they left this place to live their lives.

Eventually, he opened the door to his room and slipped inside, and sat wearily on his bed, not undressing. Instead, he watched the sky lighten outside his window, and felt the slowness of time passing. _It will never be enough, not in this lifetime, _he thought. _You can wait and wait and you will die before you see that future you wish for._

There was only one way to see that place again, and that was through his dreams. And for that he needed time- a full night to sleep- and until then, he had to _concentrate _and_ focus_ on the future; focus on the stairwell with the flickering lamps and the peeling plaster, on the small flat with the arched window, and the round table, and the bed he had been in with Thomas while they were also in their rented room.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is short-ish- I was worried the next part would make this the longest chapter so far so I decided to split it up. :D**


	7. The Staircase

In the morning- or rather- only a few hours later, it seemed that Mrs. Hughes truly had not said anything about finding them up the night before. Jimmy had paused outside the servant's hall before breakfast to try and pull himself together, but he felt frayed and tired and worn down by the world and he didn't know how he could keep it from showing on his face. He half-expected Mr. Carson to relieve him of his job on sight, as if Mrs. Hughes had thought better of keeping it a secret in the last few hours. But when he sat down, the only glances he received were that of brief acknowledgment- save for Mrs. Hughes, who glared daggers of disapproval at him. He felt his stomach roil sickly, with both exhaustion and nervousness. He nodded tightly at her and tried not to say anything to anyone.

Thomas did not wake up until mid-morning, and as much as Jimmy wished now that he had let himself fall asleep for a hour at least, he didn't begrudge Thomas the rest. Jimmy was in perfect health and Thomas was still recovering. Even so, when he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself in that other place with Thomas, sleeping peacefully in the bed, the curtains drawn over the arched window.

He did ache for Thomas's company as he passed by him over and over throughout the day. They shared nothing but eye contact before noon, and when he finally had a few minutes to himself, he found Thomas reading in his room.

"Come outside with me?" Jimmy asked. His voice sounded thin and strained to himself, likely from the lack of sleep.

Thomas looked him over, concerned. He stood up and took a few steps towards Jimmy, his brow furrowed. "What's wrong? You look miserable." He asked quietly, glancing at the open door over Jimmy's shoulder before reaching up to brush his fingers across Jimmy's cheekbone.

Jimmy shook his head, trying to will himself not to come undone. He leaned into the touch, feeling the room swim dizzily around him. "I'm alright." He answered. "No, I'm not. I'm so- I'm so _sad_."

"Is this about-" Thomas began to speak. He looked pained, breaking eye contact. "I'm sorry, maybe we shouldn't have."

"That's _not_ why." Jimmy interrupted. He couldn't let Thomas believe that something so incredible could have been wrong for him, even if it maybe had been the catalyst for his unhappiness, in a way. "No, I just-" He sighed, and shook his head. If he said anything else, he was going to start talking about the dreams again. "I just can't stand this place anymore."

Thomas's eyes widened a touch, but he nodded. "Yes, well. I suppose can understand that." He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. "But what else would you have us do?"

Jimmy's shoulders slumped. "I don't know. I don't have enough saved for anything, really." He tried to count how many months of saving it would take to have enough to leave Downton and move. Truthfully, he had no idea how much he'd need if they were to leave service and needed to pay for their own place to live.

"We'll plan something, alright? If you want to leave-" Thomas closed his eyes, and looked as though he was gathering up some sort of courage. "We _will_, eventually- but we've got to do it carefully. Take our time. I don't know what kind of work we'll get, but our references have got to be worth _something_."

Jimmy nodded, but even Thomas's reassurances didn't touch the pain in his chest. He closed his eyes, and wished he could skip ahead, through the life he'd already lived in his dreams, and find himself in that world of the future, where he knew Thomas would be waiting for him.

Thomas followed him downstairs. Jimmy walked slowly, his eyes on his feet. He stopped on a landing to wait for Thomas, but when he looked up, he realized that he stood in the stairwell outside of the small flat again, with the peeling paint and the flickering lights. He turned back, and ran up the stairs, searching for the apartment door.

_I'm here again I'm here- and I'm not even asleep! _he thought, as he scanned the doors. _What was the number again? Hold on to this, don't let go! _

He stopped at the door labeled '417', and squeezed his eyes shut. _Stay here!_ He commanded himself, feeling the floor beneath his odd shoes, smelling the tinny air of the building, trying to root himself there.

He opened his eyes, reaching his hand up to knock on the door, but then he really was back on the staircase at Downton, waiting on the landing with Thomas. Thomas was staring at him with an intense expression, as though trying to communicate without words.

"What are you _doing_?" He asked Jimmy, his eyes wide. "You _have _to tell me- and yesterday, when you were talking about that- that _class_ or something- I _know_ something is going on with you."

Jimmy shook his head emphatically. He was trembling with excitement. "No, nothing's going on. Let's go down." He headed down the stairs, trying to send himself back into that place.

"Jimmy-" Thomas called after him, as loud as he could without attracting attention.

_I'm sorry, Thomas, I can't tell you. _He thought. _But we'll both be so much happier, trust me._

Jimmy's mood was suddenly elevated. He avoided Thomas's questing looks all afternoon, and thought of the other place, and tried to push his mind into it. He stepped into the kitchen and found himself on a busy street , walking along with more people than he could remember seeing at once. Strange automobiles whizzed by them at breakneck speeds but no one even glanced up at them. Someone bumped into his shoulder hard as he stood and stared, and he gasped, and was back in the kitchen.

"You alright? You look awful." Alfred asked him as he walked by.

"Fine, thanks a lot." Jimmy answered, rolling his eyes.

He met Thomas outside before dinner, but for an instant, he found himself seated in some strange room. The leather chair he'd been sitting in creaked as he stood up.

"Jimmy?" A strange man's voice asked him. He turned around to look at the man, but was back out in the courtyard, and he took it in stride, finding Thomas leaning against his usual section of wall.

"Hello." He smiled brightly at Thomas, who frowned.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Thomas asked him, narrowing his eyes.

"Aren't I allowed to be in a good mood?" Jimmy asked in return, raising his eyebrows.

Thomas shrugged, considering the lit end of his cigarette. "You weren't earlier, and you haven't said two words to me since."

Jimmy squeezed Thomas's arm, and Thomas glanced around them for onlookers. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking of the future. I'm much happier now, thank you for talking to me earlier."

Thomas did not look convinced. He turned towards Jimmy, lowering his voice. "You're not- you're not _seeing_ things, are you? Things from those _dreams, _like? Because sometimes lately- sometimes you've been getting this look on your face. Like the other night, when you said you didn't know where you were."

"Of course not." Jimmy faked his best tone of incredulity. "Why would you say that?"

Thomas leaned away, scrutinizing him. "Whatever it is, you can _tell_ me, Jimmy, really."

_No, I can't tell you yet._ "If there's anything to tell, I will." He answered, bumping his arm against Thomas's.

"_How did your appointment go?" Thomas asked him through the phone._

"_Fine, actually. I've got lower dosage- my doctor said they won't zombify me, hopefully. I guess I just have to cooperate for a while-" He paused, rubbing at his temple with his free hand. _

"_Jimmy?" Thomas's voice asked. "Are you there?"_

"_Y-yes." He answered, squinting against the mid-day light. "God, I have the worst headache today, though. I think I need to lay down."_

"I feel like there's something you're not telling me." Thomas muttered, frowning.

"Hm?" Jimmy shook himself to clear his head. "Oh, I love you." He whispered.

Thomas shook his head. "That's not what I meant."

"_I'm just going to stop by my place and pick up a few things."_

"Mph-" Jimmy felt a sharp pain shoot through his head and he and winced, his hands flying up to his skull, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"What is it?" Thomas asked, almost looking unsurprised. Jimmy frowned.

"Headache." He answered, turning his face away from the waning sunlight. There was a thin layer of double-vision, just a hint of an overlap from that other time coming into focus, and he stood very still for a moment and watched it. He tried not to think about it too much, as though that would push it away. Around him, everything in the courtyard was still- or rather, in the courtyard, _he _was still, but in that other place he was walking. Buildings moved past him, the sidewalk slid under his feet. Just the faintest outlines, like a film projection was being cast over him. He knew, somehow, that he was becoming aware of it in that other time, too.

"Ah-" Jimmy looked around, slowly, but it faded in and out, never really disappearing. _Yes, almost there-_

Thomas hand gripped his arm like a vise. "What. Is. It?" He leaned in very close, his voice hard. Jimmy shook his head.

"Nothing, I've just got to get back inside." He smiled at Thomas once more before he left.

_What is happening to me? Why is this happening _now,_ of all times?_ His thoughts clashed in his head. _No, no, I _want_ this, I want this to happen,_ he warred with himself.

A buzzing started in his ears; a low, ambient sort of sound. Omnipresent traffic noises. The sound of many people talking bouncing off of marble floors. The ding before the lift doors opened up. He felt a little panicked by it, like he was tearing apart some thin film of time and space and it would rip and leave him somewhere outside of it unless he could choose to just be _here_ or _there. _He was beginning to feel a little outside himself already.

_It's okay. _His hands shook as he pressed the elevator buttons. _It's alright, I just have to be there instead of here- I just have to step through. _

He dropped his keys as he tried to unlock his apartment door. Thomas pulled out the chair next to him and he realized that he was staring at the table, unblinking.

"Perhaps you'd better go lie down." Thomas said, and Jimmy looked up at him, but turning his head made him feel dizzy.

"No-" He answered, shaking his head as much as he could. "No, I've got dinner in ten minutes-" He dropped his laptop bag on the kitchen floor and clutched at his head.

_I can't-_ he thought, wincing at the pain. _I've just got to go back to Thomas's- _he picked up his things and raced back out to the elevator. Thomas looked afraid. He grasped Jimmy's hand on top of the table- and there were _people_ in the room-

"I'm fine." He said, pulling his hand away from Thomas's as he watched the floor numbers tick down. "If I go sit in my room I'll lose it."

"Lose _what?_" Thomas hissed, ducking his head down, trying to catch his eyes.

_Don't, Thomas- don't- _He could feel the sting of the cool city air on his cheeks as he raced out of the building. His hand flung up into the air as he hailed a cab, but his hands were resting on the table also, nervously drumming on the wood.

He pushed his chair away, and wandered numbly into the kitchen- aimless- he could not feel the floor beneath his feet, but he felt the cab lurching through traffic, his fingers digging into the armrest on the door. He was racing down the sidewalk when Daisy handed him a tray, and he struggled to focus on carrying it, but also to keep running, and to walk calmly upstairs at the same time.

He took the stairs in Thomas's building up two at a time, and paused at the door, his hand hovering before it as if he made to knock. He hesitated for a moment, but then he _did_ knock, lurching forward again, regaining control.

The door opened and Thomas appeared, half-smiling. "Coming in, or what?" He asked.

_Yes-_ Jimmy thought, though he wasn't in direct control of his body. _Yes- this is the moment I dreamt of. _

"Oh yes, of course." Jimmy heard himself say as he walked into the flat. He spun around, taking everything in, but of course he'd seen it before, in his dream- and he followed along. The window, the table, the bed- the room moved around him before he stopped, watching Thomas at the door.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asked, stepping forward, his hand reaching out to touch Jimmy's forehead.

_Yes! _He tried to say. _Yes, I'm perfect, I'm so well, Thomas, I'm here and everything will be wonderful from now on! _"What?" He asked, instead, ducking away from Thomas's hand.

"You're alright then? Did you take those new pills?" Thomas asked. Jimmy struggled for control, feeling as though he was still hovering just above himself. _So close-_ he tried to push with his mind, through the last barriers of consciousness.

"Pills, what pills?" He heard his own voice ask. "What are you talking about? Why did you bring us here? I thought we were meeting in the cemetery again." His eyes were on Thomas, so he put his attention there. If there was any reason for him to be there, it was for Thomas. Without him, he would never have had any reason to do this at all. He watched his face- so youthful in this time, his hair falling a bit into his eyes, which were wide and unblinking- and summoned up all his love for him. _Let me be here with you, _he thought.

As he watched, Thomas paled, and took a step back from him. "You did?"

"Well I know I never said so, but I thought since it was where I found you last night, we'd just meet there again- where _are_ we?" His feet took him to the window and the view of the dogwood on the sidewalk, surrounded by a crown of orange leaves.

_Stop talking!_ He fought with himself, trying to take over his hands, his mouth, the way his eyes roamed around the room. He looked over his shoulder and saw Thomas frozen in horror, and heard himself laugh. _You bloody idiot- this is real to him! _"What _is_ it?" He asked Thomas.

Thomas walked over to him quickly, and the look of fear on his face pained Jimmy, and he wanted so much to reach out to him, and tell him everything was alright- and he _would_ as soon as he was done reliving this dream-

"Jimmy, I think we need to go see your doctor." Thomas's voice was tinged with panic. Jimmy tried to reach out to him, but then he stepped away.

"Where am I- _when_ am I? I don't remember this from before." He asked, as he hurriedly studied the kitchen area.

_Yes- _Jimmy remembered how he'd lost his grip in the dream, but he would not do that now. He would hold fast, and keep himself here, awake, and not only in his dreams. He turned back to Thomas.

"You aren't sleeping at all, are you?" He asked, and Thomas's mouth dropped open in shock. "You're not even _from _now, this is something else." He stumbled a bit and threw his hand over his eyes. "No- wait-" Thomas grabbed him, holding him up, and he faltered as he finally got his feet under him.

_Yes- this is something else, this is something real. This is where I'm meant to be,_ he thought. He wanted to stay here with Thomas, and wake up with him in the mornings, and walk down the street with him, and live his life, the way he was _meant_ to. Freely, and while they were young, as well. He felt himself gaining control of his body, pushing through that last semi-intangible barrier, stepping into this time.

"Jimmy, _what's going on?_" Thomas's voice was painfully distraught. Jimmy shook his head, feeling something click into place, like he'd settled into his body, finally. His heart raced, exhilarated. He looked up into Thomas's eyes.

"Nothing, I'm fine, I'm sorry-" He answered, feeling out of breath. "I'm sorry I gave you a scare, I've been dizzy all day." He tried to keep his voice level, but he rambled as he looked up at Thomas, his thoughts carried off as he looked at his face, studying him. "Oh- Thomas-" He said, feeling his throat go tight.

"But-but-" Thomas's eyes darted around the room, as thought retracing the path Jimmy had just walked. "Those things you were saying-" He waved a hand around, gesturing to the room. "And-" His eyes locked on to Jimmy's, and they were still wide with fear and panic. Jimmy reached up, resting his hands on Thomas's shoulders, lightly, as though the moment would fade out and disappear if he touched him.

"Your _voice._" Thomas said, swallowing nervously. "Is your doctor's number in your phone? Because I really think we should call her."

"Nothing's wrong with my voice." Jimmy assured him, and he pulled himself up by Thomas's shoulders, pressing his lips to Thomas's. _I can kiss him whenever I want_- he thought, but Thomas stood still, his lips unresponsive. He settled back on to his heels. "I've just-" He stopped, having no idea how to describe what he'd just done.

"Your _accent_, Jimmy, you don't _sound_ like that- are you having some kind of episode or something? It's because of your memories, isn't it?" Thomas's voice shook as he talked and he held out his hand. "Give me your phone."

"_What_ phone?" Jimmy asked, looking around the flat. "I'm fine." He insisted, looking Thomas in the eyes. "It's- yes, it's the new _pills_, I think. Maybe I'll just have a lie down-"

Jimmy wandered over to the bed, sitting down on at and sighing at the comfort of the mattress. He glanced over his shoulder and felt a thrill chase through him- just the night before, he'd laid in that spot with Thomas, and he ached from the familiarity of it.

Thomas walked over to him and rested his hands on Jimmy's shoulders, pushing him back a bit to look at his face. "Let me have your phone, Jimmy. If the medicine is having some sort of adverse effects on your brain, I think we ought to tell the doctor. Right?" He rested his palms against Jimmy's cheeks, but Jimmy made eye contact with him, doing his best to convince Thomas he was alright.

"I'm _fine_, I just need to sleep it off." Jimmy insisted. He _was_ tired, but really, he needed a moment to think- and he was giddy over being here, but he almost couldn't believe it yet. His pulse still fluttered on and off, and his heart was racing with excitement, but the adrenaline was wearing off and his mind was tired from the strain of stepping through- and the night before, he had barely slept at all.

Thomas sat next to him, pulling Jimmy up against him, and he let himself lean against Thomas's shoulder, feeling for an instant the spark of unease that said _don't linger, lest you be found out-_ but he squelched it. He would never need those thoughts again.

"Okay," Thomas nodded. He was clearly skeptical, but allowing Jimmy's explanation for the time being.

_Now I just have to find a way to explain the rest,_ Jimmy thought, as they lay together in the bed by the windowsill. He almost could not sleep- watching Thomas watch him, watching the planes fly far above the city through the window, listening for the squeal of brakes on the buses, hoping beyond hope that he would wake up here again- but then he closed his eyes, safely in the circle of Thomas's arms, and finally let himself rest.

* * *

Jimmy blacked out somewhere in the stairway up to Thomas's apartment, and he worried, as he stood still in some strange dream, if he'd fallen back and cracked his head on the stairs.

He stood in a corridor that he recognized, dimly- the pattern on the carpet looked familiar, in any case- but when he felt the heat from the covered metal tray he was carrying, panic set in- because if he really had fallen back on the stairs, than he was having some sort of strange and vivid hallucination.

"Oh god-" He whispered to himself, and his voice sounded too real and too close to be in a dream. "No- please-" He turned his head, frantically- and found a side table to leave the hot tray, and then he fell back against the wall, clutching his head in his hands. The pain in his skull was gone- the pain he'd felt all morning- but that worried him even more.

_What if I'm dying? Oh- god what if I'm dying right now on the stairs and Thomas won't find me- or he will and it's already too late-_ his heart was racing- but he felt it in a way it only would if he were awake, and cold shivers took over his body, and he felt the pressure of tears behind his eyes. _God please no not now just when I've finally found him. _

"What are you _doing_? Get _in there!" _A voice whispered insistently nearby, but Jimmy was so lost in his fear that when he heard it he jumped in the air, pressing his back against the wall. The man who had spoken was tall and had red hair, and held a steaming tray of something, like Jimmy had before.

"No-" He shook his head. "No no no- I can't be here, this is impossible, this is a dream-" He looked up and down the corridor, waiting for something unusual to happen- anything dreamlike, waiting for the scenery to change, for the walls to give way to something new- but it did not- everything was perfectly still, like reality.

The tall man was staring at him still, wide eyed. "If you're _sick _or something, you'd better go tell Mr. Carson or else it'll be on both of us..." He frowned.

Jimmy shook his head, and pushed away from the wall. "Where's Thomas? I need to find him, he must be here-" He muttered aloud, ignoring the other man. _Oh where is he? Please I don't remember this place that well- _He looked back at the dream man, hoping he might provide some sort of direction from his subconscious.

The red-haired man was gawking at him openly when he turned back. "Where is Thomas?" He asked again. "Have you seen him- please, I really can't remember this that well- I'm probably... lying somewhere in a pool of my own _blood_ right now-" He shook his head. _I'm still here, I must be alive, just go to him and you can wake up. _

"Go downstairs, then!" The man hissed, pushing at Jimmy's shoulder. "What are you- _seeing_ things or something? And _stop_ talking like that about Mr. Barrow or else-" He turned his head and glanced around the corridor, as though checking for listeners. After a moment he looked back at Jimmy, his brow deeply furrowed. "He's downstairs so just _go_ and I'll tell Mr. Carson that you need the doctor."

Jimmy stumbled away from him, numbly, and headed in the direction he'd been shoved. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, trembling violently. He could barely hear his own footsteps over the rushing noise in his ears.

This place was too suffocatingly real to be a dream. Time seemed to move naturally. He walked through the hall and to the stairs at a quick pace, but normally- not slipping over the space too quickly or trudging across it too slowly like he might have in a dream, and the air smelled faintly of dust and old polished wood.

He held tightly on to the railing as he stumbled down the stairs, blearily watching his feet to make sure he would not slip. A woman passed him on her way up, and he saw her eyes move over him as they passed, her face creasing in concern. His stomach churned sickly, and he clutched his other arm across his front, trying to keep his feet under him in his panic.

He came to the bottom of the stairs, and stood somewhere he recognized from his memories- and his dreams, lately- but he hesitated, crippled with uncertainly. _This isn't real, so just go in-_ he thought, but even the thought of encountering more dream-people and their scrutiny was terrifying. He turned back to the stairs, looking up, and seeing nothing to help him at all- and yet he did not know where to go or what to do with himself.

_Please!_ He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking hard to himself, concentrating. _Wake up, come on!_

He opened his eyes- _hoping_, even, to see the florescent lights in Thomas's apartment building shining in his eyes- but nothing had changed at all. He still stood in the hallway, facing the door. He could hear muffled voices and the sounds of cooking from inside. From somewhere, he caught the scent of cigarette smoke, and something in his mind told him with complete certainty- _there, he's down the hallway, that's him, _and he surged towards it, his throat tightening in anticipation.

He stepped into a room with a long table, and the sight of it evoked such a strong sense of déjà vu that he almost did not register the people in the room- _almost- _until his eyes flicked over Thomas, his face turned down as he read some book, a cigarette in his gloved hand.

"Thomas-" he said, stepping forward, cautiously- and Thomas's eyes snapped up to him, startled at once. His book half-shut as he pushed his chair back, suddenly, the pages fluttering closed. "I don't know- I think I'm dreaming-"

Thomas's face held an expression of fear- but he was so fully realized, so perfectly set in this age in a way that Jimmy could never fully recollect before. The details Jimmy could never remember- exactly how Thomas had dressed, or the old design on his brand of cigarettes on the table, the smell of his pomade- and his face was as young as he'd ever known it, until they had met again in the cemetery.

He felt himself grow lightheaded, and he stepped back, leaning on the door frame as Thomas rounded the table and stepped over to him quickly. "Jimmy-" He said thinly, urgently, grasping his elbow to keep him upright. Thomas's hand was trembling where it touched him. "Steady-" Thomas said. His voice became strangely detached, but the eyes that searched Jimmy's face were frantic.

"I'm on the stairs, I think- that's the last thing- the last thing I remember-" Jimmy said. Thomas's jaw dropped, but then he snapped his mouth shut again, pressing his lips into a thin line. He glanced, nervously, over his shoulder- and Jimmy's eyes followed his gaze, and he finally registered the other occupants in the room. A woman he remembered _very _well, with brown curls atop her head, and a man with dark hair, whose cane was resting up against the table next to him. He pressed himself backwards, into the doorway- the woman was half-standing, her palms pressed flat against the table, and the man was sitting up straight, his head turned, giving them his full attention.

Thomas turned back to him. "Go up to your room. Now. I will get help." He turned away, but Jimmy grabbed his sleeve, and Thomas turned back quickly, alarmed.

"I don't know where that _is_." Jimmy whispered, imploring Thomas to do _something_, to fix whatever it was that was happening. _Maybe I've slipped into a coma- _he thought, and a mirthless laugh bubbled out of his throat. "Please-" He whispered- so the woman- _Sarah_, he thought- would not hear. "Please _help_ me."

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, stunned, but something over Jimmy's shoulder caught his attention and he stepped away slightly.

"James," A booming voice spoke behind him, and Jimmy jolted more from the sound of it than the use of his name. The voice came from an imposing older man who stood in the hall behind them, a dour expression on his face. "Would you _mind_ telling me _why, _exactly, you have decided to not appear at dinner?"

"He's not well, Mr. Carson-" Thomas answered for him, his voice carefully measured.

"I was speaking to James." This Mr. Carson interrupted him, before his eyes returned to Jimmy. He looked very stern, perhaps bordering on collected anger. "_Well?_ What seems to be the matter?"

Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, but he had no idea at all what to say. He knew his voice alone would sound strange- it was a _dream,_ but he still felt so afraid, so afraid that maybe it _wasn't- _

"That's what I'm trying to _tell _you, Mr. Carson, he doesn't _know_ what's wrong because he's hit his head or something." Thomas spoke again. Jimmy nodded tightly, too frightened to move away from the wall. "He doesn't _remember_ where he _is_."

Mr. Carson's eyes narrowed, his brows flattening into a line, and he studied Jimmy for a moment. "Is this true?" He asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Jimmy tried to still his body's uncontrollable shaking long enough to nod. "Yes-" he croaked, his voice strained, "I know- some things are familiar but I can't-" He raised a hand to his head. "I- I don't really know- w-what's going on-"

"He told Alfred that he was suffering from a headache, earlier." Sarah called from inside the room. Jimmy prickled with anxiety at her voice, and glanced back into the room, seeing her and the man with the cane standing a few paces away. He pressed his spine into the door frame, wishing desperately to be away from these people- and back in Thomas's apartment, or in the stairwell- _anything_ but stuck in this hallucination.

"Get him upstairs immediately." Mr. Carson told Thomas, curtly. "I will telephone Dr. Clarkson."

Thomas nodded, and Jimmy felt his hand return to his arm as he led him away from the door. Jimmy let himself be dragged away easily, trusting Thomas implicitly- though his mind began to race as they started up the stairs. _Why am I still here, why is this happening?_

"Is this real?" He asked, clutching his free hand against Thomas's arm, digging his fingers in, white-knuckled. Thomas hissed, looking down at Jimmy's hand, and Jimmy loosened his grip just a bit, feeling himself swoon dizzily.

"Yes." Thomas answered, tightly. "Now will you tell me what's going on?"

Jimmy leaned against him as they reached a landing and turned towards the next flight of stairs. "How-" His voice cracked, and he feel the sting of tears return to his eyes. "How did I- one minute I-" He babbled, but kept his voice low. "One minute I was walk- well, _running_ up to your apartment, that's why I thought- maybe- I passed out or something- but you don't _dream_ when you pass out, do you? So _then_ started to think something really bad happened, like maybe I'm- maybe I'm dying right now-" His voice caught in his throat.

Thomas shook his head, vehemently, his voice a low monotone. "You're not dying, you've just done something horrible to yourself."

Jimmy turned his head sharply towards Thomas. "I did? What do you mean? Do you know what's wrong? Why have I been seeing things lately? More than usual, I mean?"

They reached the top of the stairs and turned into a plain, nondescript hallway, and Thomas led him to a door and opened it, gesturing with a jerk of his head for Jimmy to enter. He stepped in, lingering by the door for Thomas to follow. He clenched his hands into fists, trembling- but as afraid as he was, Thomas was there with him- _Oh, but they're calling the doctor-_ he remembered, and felt a stab of panic again.

Thomas closed the door behind him. "It's those dreams." He said, eyeing Jimmy pointedly. "You were talking about the future- you said you saw it in your dreams." He looked off to the side, as though recalling some conversation. "Somewhere a long time from now, you said you saw us- together, and it was in some flat with some big window-" He waved a hand in the air, shaping an arc with his fingers. "I don't know, you said you were really there, and ever since- you _really_ don't remember this?"

Jimmy shook his head and glanced behind himself into the room, nervously, as though he were being watched.

Thomas sighed, stepping towards him. "Ever since, you've been on about it." He looked weary, from worrying, Jimmy guessed. "How you wanted to go be _there_, and it wasn't fair that we had to live like this. And how the future would be so much _better_, and-"

Jimmy shuddered at Thomas's words. "Oh- Oh, god, Thomas- do you know what this _means?_" He stumbled backwards, finding the bed, and sitting on it heavily. "This means- this means _he's _there, and _I'm_ here, I'm stuck here because he took my place-" Jimmy covered his face with his hands, and a moment later was crying- his face wet with tears, his chest aching from the uncontrollable wracking sobs that took him over.

"No- please-" He begged, with _himself_, with _whatever _would let him go home. "Please I can't be _here-_ _no- _not _now-"_

He felt the bed dip as Thomas sat next to him, and a moment later, he could feel Thomas's hand on his back, pulling him sideways into an embrace. "It's alright, Jimmy." He heard Thomas's voice say, and he leaned against him, pressing his cheek against Thomas's chest.

"It's _n-not_, it's _not _alright." Jimmy clutched at Thomas's desperately, his breath hitching when he spoke. "I wanted to go back for so many years-" He felt Thomas's hand on his head, running over his hair. "B-but now I don't _want_ that anymore, I j-just want to live my _life_." He wiped at his cheeks with a trembling hand. "Strange that your greatest wish could end up being your worst nightmare."

Thomas pulled him close, resting the side of his face against Jimmy's hair. "We'll get it sorted." He said. "For now, tell Dr. Clarkson that you don't remember what happened."

Jimmy nodded. _If you could get here, then you can get home,_ he thought, but then his inner voice countered him: _But you used to be _so _much stronger than you are now, and everything you've done to yourself has left you weak-_ and he knew that it was true, and that made him terribly afraid.

* * *

**:D**


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